Sleeping Lions Lie
by photojourney
Summary: Not long after Giotto and his Guardians begin to leave their rings and pay regular visits to the material world, Tsuna starts to wonder why they all look so young. (GEN)
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** violence, language, GEN, after-manga timeline

**Summary:** Not long after Giotto and his Guardians begin to leave their rings and pay daily visits to the material world, Tsuna begins to wonder why they all look so young.

**Author's Note:** this plot got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave. be warned – it goes off in all sorts of directions.

* * *

The first time he makes contact with Primo after the Arcobaleno Curse was broken is very brief, and very small, and _almost_ insignificant.

There is no flash of fire or blue crest, nothing to signify the first boss's presence in Tsuna's mind. It will take days and weeks and months for him to remember the moment again. It is the third week of high school, when things have settled down and people have started building their everyday schedules. Tsuna wakes up on a Friday two hours early, because after an intense training session with Reborn and his guardians, his vision became blurred and he accidentally set the alarm at six instead of eight.

The sun dawns into spring, and the sky is colored a bright, brilliant gradient of scarlet, purple, and gold at his awakening.

Lately, Tsuna has been waking up earlier than Reborn. Sometimes two seconds, sometimes two minutes before. A full two hours, though, leaves him with nothing much to do except lie in bed, so he props his head up on his hand and stares at the sunrise through the window. He stares at the searing light that is the sun (_Sasagawa Ryohei_, some part of his brain says) and the trails of clouds (_Hibari Kyouya_, another voice whispers) splashed with color, the trees swaying in a silent dance with the wind.

And then, after thirty minutes have passed and the sun is floating hazily above the horizon, Tsuna thinks of his other guardians - Gokudera, Yamamoto, Lambo, Mukuro and Chrome. He thinks of his mother and Bianchi and Fuuta, and Dino and Basil and even his _dad_ of all people, and the Arcobaleno and Enma and Byakuran and every other person he's ever met. Enemies or friends, mafioso or not, he's met a lot of people in the past few years that he had never dreamed of meeting before.

He thinks of Reborn, who is resting in the hammock literally five feet from his bed, and it occurs to the teenager that none of these people would have ever even _spoken_ to him had it not been for the tutor who came to him in his first year of middle school. He's struck by the stunning realization that he cannot regret meeting Reborn anymore, or fighting any of his battles anymore, or getting involved in the mafia in the first place, no matter how much he complains about all three of them.

Regretting any of those things would also mean regretting the chance to meet his friends, and a thought like that is just – unthinkable.

Tsuna accepts the realization, because the morning in front of him is beautiful - pure and hopeful and everything he has ever looked forward to in life. He feels at peace, so much at peace for the first time in probably his whole life, and the gratitude welling up inside of him is too genuine to be embarrassed about.

Tsuna smiles, glancing at the dainty blue shadows and golden sunspots scattered across the wrong, and _appreciates._

Then, in the very depths of his mind, the brunet catches the faintest of echoes in his mind. He doesn't react to them, since they don't have seem to have any malicious intent, but they seem to come from a different source - as if they are put there by a different person. He tilts his head to the side and listens to a message that is conveyed without words, without sounds.

A warm feeling spreads inside his chest. _Proud of you_, Tsuna hears (feels). _So very proud of you._

With a quirky grin, Tsuna gets to his feet fifteen minutes before than usual and puts on his clothes. He comes down the stairs, makes breakfast, and eats his own share before double-checking his packpack for homework and supplies.

Reborn's sleep bubble pops before Tsuna can even reach the door, having been woken by his near-silent footsteps, but the hitman just eyes him speculatively for a moment or two before rolling over again.

At school, life fades back into a blur of hectic routines, and Tsuna half-forgets the morning sunset and the glowing praise given anonymously (Gokudera and Yamamoto comment on his unusual cheerfulness during lunch hours, which makes him wonder if he acts more negative or depressed on any other day).

And at the end of the day, Tsuna is a bit more tired and worn than usual, but his smile feels lighter and his sleep is the easiest he's had since the Arcobaleno's curse was broken.

The next day, everything is normal, and the light feeling fades back into Tsuna's heart.

But it never leaves him entirely.

* * *

One thing Tsuna learns about high school, after much trial and error, is that it's _hard_.

Their studies have increased in difficulty so much that even Gokudera has trouble figuring out some of the algebra, and Yamamoto has to double his homework time to keep up his grades, which are at a solid average compared to other students. Reborn has switched over a third of his training sessions to time dedicated toward schoolwork, knowing he'll have no way of passing any of his classes without it.

The second thing he learns is that Namimori High is built like a labyrinth. His classrooms are juggled between the left and right wings of the main building, which means he has to run through the halls sometimes to avoid getting caught by Hibari a second after the bell rings (and the Cloud Guardian, who was disgusted by the school's lack of discipline the moment he stepped into his new territory, never wasted any opportunities to bite lax students to death).

On Tuesday, Tsuna lets out a deep sigh as soon as everyone is dismissed, hoisting his million-pound bag over his shoulder. Gokudera and Yamamoto meet him outside the door as they always do, bickering over one thing or another. "How was class, Jyuudaime?" the Storm asks as usual.

"Tiring." Tsuna's eyes droop as he glances at his friends. "Going between classes is like a marathon. Maybe I should ask Hibari to start breaking up the crowds between my classrooms, or something."

With a chuckle, Yamamoto lays a warm hand on Tsuna's shoulder. The bomber bristles next to them. "You could try, but I don't think Hibari will like taking orders," the baseball player points out. "You seem kind of stressed, though."

The brunet runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah? I dunno, I've just been feeling really disorganized lately. Like that feeling I had before I figured out all my textbooks were left at home, and Reborn beat me up for it."

His guardians give him sheepish looks. "Is it…like you're forgetting something?" Gokudera asks. "Do you know what it is?"

Tsuna shrugs and itches the back of his finger. A second later, he looks down at the red spot where his skin has been agitated, and wonders if something gave him an allergic reaction.

Then, horror dawns.

"My ring," Tsuna says, his voice faint as he stares at the empty spot where it used to be. "I forgot my ring."

Gokudera takes on an alarmed expression. The brunet's fear begins to mount.

Meanwhile, Yamamoto simply blinks down at them both (he's hit a growth spurt that's made him a fair few inches taller than them). "That's not really necessary for school, though, is it? You don't wear your ring all the time. You can just put it back on when you get home, right?"

Tsuna shakes his head, wringing his hands out in front of him. "No, no, I was wearing it when I came to school. I was definitely wearing it. And now..." Reborn is going to _murder_ him.

"Quick, Jyuudaime!" Gokudera's gaze shoots across the floor, as if expecting to see the ring lying idly in some corner. "Where could you have lost it? Is there any place you can think of?"

"I don't know! It could have dropped anywhere!" Tsuna's mind flips back to the day's previous events. He might have lost it while stuffing his textbooks in his backpack, or snagged it on someone else's clothes while pushing through the hallways (probably the worst-case scenario, being in some stranger's possession), or left it in the restroom while washing his hands. How could he have _missed_ it?

Yamamoto's brow furrows in thought. "Here, we'll help you look for it. Where's your first class? 1-A, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Tsuna shakes his head and groans. "We're not allowed to stay after school! Hibari will find us!"

Gokudera scowls at the mention of the Cloud Guardian. "We can avoid him, Jyuudaime! That bastard always wears the same shoes - you can hear him coming when he walks."

The brunet opens his mouth, ready to retaliate with the fact that Reborn will find out if they don't come home right away, but closes it again when he realizes the baby will probably find out _anyway_ and prepare some sort of hellish training menu. In fact, Tsuna wouldn't be surprised if the hitman is already eavesdropping on them.

"Okay." Tsuna clenches his hands into fists, aware of the tremors running through them, and tries not to think of the horrifying prospect that he's just lost an ancient, important, and dangerous weapon passed down from the Vongola's ancestors since the foundation of the famiglia - all because of his own carelessness.

If the student council president threatens to bite them to death, Tsuna will just have to plow through it, because finding the ring overrides all other priorities.

They sneak to all of Tsuna's classes, peering through every crack and crevice in the walls, uprooting tables and breaking lockers (although that's mostly Gokudera's fault). To the brunet's surprise, they actually manage to avoid Hibari by listening to the sound of his shoes, and Tsuna runs through all of the stealth tips Reborn gave him a crash-course in a few months back (don't breathe, don't move, blend in, track your enemy's eyes, move slow if they're focusing on movement). It's terrifying, and they'll be bitten to death later once Hibari discovers the state of the gym locker rooms, but they manage for the moment.

In the end, halfway through digging into his science teacher's garbage cans, Tsuna drops his head.

"Don't give up, Jyuudaime!" Gokudera says, tearing up someone's failed homework in the process. "It has to be around here somewhere!"

"Yeah, but..." Tsuna's words are muffled through the sleeve of his uniform. He's not used to giving up, but he's allowed to be pessimistic (or realistic, depending on the perspective). "I can't even remember where I could've lost it. It could already be in the dumpster for all I know."

Yamamoto sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow. "This is pretty bad, huh." He gives them a wry smile. "Tsuna, do you have any way of locating the ring? I remember you mentioned something before about your intuition, uh...Super Intuition, was it?"

"Hyper Intuition," Tsuna murmurs, lifting his head. He pauses, gears whirring inside his head - could he do it? "I...I don't really have much control over it, though. Sometimes it helps, and sometimes when I try to tap into it, nothing really happens. I could try, but still, I don't think my intuition would really...work like...that..."

His guardians stare, confusion etched across their faces, as Tsuna trails off and his gaze locks onto the dash of movement behind them. "Jyuudaime?" Gokudera questions as he looks around the empty classroom. "What are you looking at? What's wrong?"

"Something up, Tsuna?" Yamamoto prompts him.

"Wha-" Tsuna's eyes threaten to bulge out of his head as he looks at them, mouth agape. "You - you - you can't-"

"Er, Jyuudaime?"

"Tsuna?"

"You can't see her?" The brunet whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from the flickering figure in red.

The Rain and Storm exchange identical looks of confusion.

Standing quietly next to the window, the woman's limbs seem to twist about in ethereal light, mimicking the tips of a candle flame. She lifts her chin, head held high and back straight, a swirl of flowers and spindly branches tattooed in ornate patterns across her left cheek. Her eyes observe Tsuna with a strange glint, and for some reason, he has no urge to shrink down under her blatant appraisal.

Instead, the brunet straightens up in an unconscious effort to make a good impression. "You are..." He recalls his meeting with the previous successors of the Vongola, lining the path between him and the first boss, cold and proud in all the magnificence of that moment.

"Vongola Ottavo?" he ventures, making a hesitant guess. "The eighth boss?"

"Ottavo?" Gokudera echoes in a hushed voice, squinting at the specter without seeing her. Yamamoto leans back, contemplating his options of either rolling with it or calling Tsuna out on experiencing hallucinations.

The Ottavo's stony expression softens with a hint of approval. She puts a hand over her chest and bows her head in reverence, her scarlet suit barely crinkled by the movement.

"Why are you here?" Tsuna asks, forcing the waver from his voice. "I mean, how? How are you even _possible_?"

The woman rights herself and turns away, footsteps silent as she makes her way to the door. "H-hey!" he calls, rising to his feet. "Wait, please! Where are you going?"

She stops and turns her head, and this time, watches his puzzled Guardians with keen brown eyes. Then, she lifts her hand and beckons them.

_Come._

Tsuna watches her leave the room, still stunned by her appearance, before turning to his friends. "Guys, she wants us to follow her." A sense of determination rises inside him. "We should hurry. Come on!"

"What?" Yamamoto asks, even as they scramble to their feet. "Tsuna, who are you talking about? I can't see anyone."

"No, but I can," Tsuna replies, running toward the strands of black hair trailing around the corner. His Guardian's footsteps resound behind him, and in the back of his mind, he knows Hibari will hear it. "I think...I think she came from my ring! That's the only way she could've appeared, right?"

"Then why can't _we_ see her?" Gokudera asks. They slow to a walk as the distance closes between them and the spirit. "Where's she going, Jyuudaime?"

The Ottavo turns and begins climbing the stairs to the second floor. "I don't know," he says, finally taking his eyes off her to look at the bomber. "I think...I think she might be helping us look for the ring. That would make sense, right? I mean, I _hope_ that's what she's doing."

Tsuna rounds the corner and stops in mid-step. Yamamoto nearly crashes into him from behind. "Tsuna?" he asks, bewildered. "What is it?"

In place of the Ottavo stands another ghost - older, but with gentler features. The man says nothing, his hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat, peering at his dropped jaw through a gleaming monocle. "Vongola _Sesto_?" Tsuna asks, disbelieving of his own eyes.

The man nods and continues to ascend the stairway. Tsuna scoops his jaw off the floor and clambers after him, ignoring the shouts from his Guardians. "Where are you going?" he calls to the ghost. "Where did Ottavo go? Can...Can you answer me? Please?"

The Sesto ignores him and sweeps through the second floor, heading toward the stairs leading up to the roof of the building. Rather than opening the doors to the rooftop, he passes straight through the material, his body fading into nothing in the process. Tsuna pauses in front of the doors himself, waiting for Gokudera and Yamamoto to catch up, before bursting through them into the sunlight.

He nearly trips over his feet at the sight. Behind him, he hears the bomber gasp and the baseball player stiffen, and knows they can see them too.

The Ottavo and Sesto lean against the railing, their forms glowing as bright as sparks. Between them stands Vongola Primo, the first boss and founder of the Vongola, dressed in a pin-striped suit and mantle. The only difference in his appearance since Tsuna last saw him is the absence of the flame on his forehead.

As always, the mere aura of his ancestor threatens to floor him. There is something about the Primo, something grand and majestic and distant, that makes Tsuna feel smaller than he usually feels.

"Hello, Decimo, Rain and Storm," Primo says, his voice carrying over the space between them. He locks eyes with his other predecessors and nods. "You may leave. Thank you."

They bow to him and shimmer out of sight, but Tsuna swears he sees the Sesto turn to him and smile, and the Ottavo cast a haughty glance in their direction. The tendrils of flame left in their wake are quick to dissipate.

"H-Hello, Primo," Tsuna says in the ensuing silence, not wanting to offend his ancestor. He takes a few tentative steps forward and hesitates, unsure as to whether or not starting off with questions would be rude, because _god_, out of all the lessons Reborn and his other tutors have taught him, he doesn't have anything at all on proper etiquette for conversing with the first-generation boss.

Gokudera saves him by speaking up first. "_How?"_ he blurts out. "How can you even _be_ here?"

The Primo walks forward until he's only a few feet in front of them, his face solemn. "I, along with the rest of Decimo's ancestors, do not necessarily need to be summoned by the Arcobaleno in order to appear. Decimo, you saw as much during your battle with the Mare boy." He presses a gloved hand against the base of his neck. "We give aid when it is necessary, and appear in times of great crisis."

"'Great crisis'?" Tsuna repeats. He rubs the back of his neck. "I...I don't think anything serious is happening right now, though?"

His ancestor's face cracks into a smile, and he motions to the railing behind him. "Look there."

A glint of banded metal catches the brunet's eye. "My ring!" he exclaims, kneeling down next to the accessory. The rainbow stripes on the face of the ring seem dulled, sitting in the patterned shadow of the green chain-link fence.

Yamamoto laughs in relief and stoops next to Tsuna. "So you took it off during lunch! Wow, why didn't we think of checking up here before? That was pretty dumb."

"Thank goodness you found it, Jyuudaime!" Gokudera says, a bright grin lighting his face as he catches Tsuna's eye. The other teenager smiles back and slips it back onto his finger, his anxiety fading. It's almost surprising how comfortable it feels on him.

He stands up and looks at the Primo again, who - strangely - seems more relaxed than before. "Now look down," the spirit urges.

Tsuna obeys and glances downward. The small blue box of the dumpster, directly below them, catches his attention.

"The wind will be picking up soon," Primo explains. "If we did not guide you here, there is a chance you may have left before finding your ring, and it would have been blown down into the dumpster there. Then, it would never be recovered." He smiles again. "A great crisis indeed."

Tsuna blinks down at his ring (that really would've been a close one, wouldn't it?). He musters up enough courage to meet his ancestor's eyes, still intimidated by the spirit's appearance. "I...Thank you," he says, his words awkward and sounding too flat to his ears. "Really. That...that would've been bad, so it's really thanks to you. I'm...I'm sorry for losing it in the first place."

Guilt begins to gnaw at the edges of his mind; here is the first generation boss, one of the most respected figures he's ever met, and the brunet almost left him - along with the rest of the residents of the ring - in the dumpster to rot and eventually be destroyed.

The Primo seems to understand, because his eyes soften and he places a gentle hand on Tsuna's head. The action almost startles him out of his skin. "It's quite alright, Decimo," his ancestor says. "The danger was easy to avoid, although it gave some of us a good scare. You will be more careful next time, yes?"

"Y-Yeah." Tsuna's voice sounds meek, even to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gokudera tense, probably at the contact between them. Yamamoto watches the Primo with a rare seriousness that betrays his easygoing personality.

His hand lifts, and the Primo takes a few steps back. "Then that is all we ask," he says with finality. "Until next time, Decimo. Good day to you, Rain and Storm."

A flash of fire, a glowing pulse from his ring, and the echo of a man is gone.

After a period of silence, Yamamoto hums a little. "That was pretty interesting," he comments. "The first generation boss, huh?"

"W-Wait!" Gokudera rounds on the Rain Guardian with fiery intent, aggravation written all over his face. "Why did he mention you first, baseball-freak? Why didn't he put Jyuudaime's right-hand man in front of you?"

Yamamoto puts his hands up and laughs. "Whoa, whoa! Hey, maybe he just mistook us for each other, or something?"

"What's that supposed to mean? You're nothing like what a right-hand man should be!"

"Aw, guys..." Tsuna's lips twitch with the urge to smile. "Gokudera-kun, he probably didn't mean anything by it. I don't think he knows you two all that well, anyway."

The Storm beams like a sunrise at his words. "I'm honored to be recognized by you, Jyuudaime!"

In the midst of his exasperation, a warm feeling flutters up inside – and in the back of his mind, the ring shakes with amused laughter.

Afterward, Hibari finds them creeping out of the school grounds, and takes it upon himself to beat them all into the ground for disrupting the peace and destroying school property. Gokudera is the first to confront the Cloud (which is _stupid_ in Tsuna's opinion, but this happens every time they try to flee) and is knocked unconscious, forcing Tsuna and Yamamoto to fight the president themselves.

The battle ends, naturally, with gasping breaths and bruises.

Later in the day, once they drag themselves home, Reborn gives them a derisive look and, to Tsuna's immense relief, decides Hibari has already delivered enough punishment for the day. His relief plummets as the baby smirks and tells him to brace himself for tomorrow's training menu before pummeling them face-first into their school work.

Tsuna lies in bed that night, exhausted by the day's events, but unable to sleep. He thinks back to the Ottavo's flowered face, the grey hair sweeping past the Sesto's ears - the Vongola crest, embedded in the ore of the Primo's glove. He remembers their translucent figures and the sheer power he felt just by being near the ghosts of past generations.

His ears pick up Reborn's quiet snoozing in the distance. Movements sluggish with sleep, the brunet lifts up his hand and looks at the moonlight scattered across his ring. "Hey, Reborn?" he breathes.

The snoring noise stops.

"What?"

"The...Vongola Primo came to me today. So did some of the other previous bosses." A small part of him is aware that Reborn already knows. "What are they, really? I...I remember him talking about trapped time and fragments of memories, but...what's that supposed to be?"

His tutor sounds almost incredulous. "Is now really the time for this? Go to sleep, Dame-Tsuna."

Tsuna falls silent, despite the mass of questions creating white noise inside his brain. As his eyelids begin to droop, he rolls over and remembers the Primo ruffling his hair, smiling with absolute forgiveness. His glove had felt incredibly warm.

* * *

As it turns out, Reborn doesn't forget those questions. He must have seen Tsuna staring at his Vongola ring at eleven o' clock at night, face bruised and battered but drawn in with contemplating lines of simple, silent thought. Tsuna had felt like dropping dead the moment he hit his bed sheets after a long day of unneeded panic and a run-in with his school's prefect, but he still stayed awake long afterward, shining the rainbow facets of his ring onto the plain moonwashed wall.

Since being the greatest hitman in the world requires one of the sharpest minds in the world, Tsuna isn't _too_ surprised that Reborn remembers.

And later, after the infant gives Tsuna some days and nights to think and really wonder, he cuts an hour off Tsuna's free time during the weekend. His mom is grocery shopping and picking up the laundry with Bianchi, while Fuuta is preoccupying Lambo and I-Pin with food in the living room.

Ignoring Tsuna's protests ("Reborn, this better not be another form of training!" and things like that), the infant takes Tsuna up to his room and sits him down on the floor. "Why?" the brunet asks.

Reborn snorts. "We're going to do an experiment. Tsuna, hold out your boss ring."

With eyebrows raised, Tsuna obeys.

Before they proceed, Reborn knocks the eyebrows back down again with his mallet. He plows on, ignoring the yelp of pain from up front. "How much do you know about the Vongola rings – more specifically, the spirits inside of them?"

Tsuna stops, frowns, and takes time to sort out his words, earning a sliver of approval in his tutor's eyes. "Well, by spirits, I'm guessing you mean the first generation of the Vongola? And the other previous bosses?"

An impatient nod. "Obviously. Try to keep up, Dame-Tsuna."

The brunet scowls at his mentor. "There was something...uh, the Space and Time Axis, I think?" He props his chin up on his palm, struggling to filter through his memories of old battles and snippets of explanations passed between them. "It lets the Vongola put souls into the rings. Only they're not souls, really, are they? I mean, I used to think they were, but they're more like...ghosts, right?"

"The Miracle of the Vertical Time-Space Axis allows the Vongola boss and his Guardians to inherit the 'time' of the Vongola," Reborn says, nodding to the ring. "The spirits in the rings are the 'living wills' of the people they once were."

"'Once were'? What do you mean?"

Reborn's face flickers, as if he is squashing down the urge to punish Tsuna for interrupting him. "Primo, along with all of the other bosses you've seen, can be described as fragments. They might act normally and retain their memories, but the only reason they can appear - or even exist - is because their life's time has been trapped. They won't age or die - it's a frozen state, essentially."

Tsuna can feel his own curiosity building at his core, but then Reborn gives him a flat look and says, "I don't know much about the Miracle myself. That's all I have, and that information isn't even supposed to be shared outside of the Vongola's inner circle."

The brunet frowns. "Then...how do you know all this?"

"Yuni and Aria told me some, but the subject was never brought up often." Reborn shakes his head quickly, as if dispersing a few memories. "Anyway, you're going to try to summon Vongola Primo out of the ring."

Tsuna blinks, as if doubting his hearing, before jolting upright with an undignified squawk. "Wh-What?" he stammers at Reborn's smirking features. "I...That's...I can do that?"

"Like I said, it's an experiment," the infant repeats. "Now try it."

The brunet pales and stares down at his ring like he's never seen it before in his life. "How? What do I do?"

"Try using your willpower," Reborn suggests. "Primo sensed your emotions while you were in the future fighting Byakuran, so he's probably connected to your mind somehow. Focus on your ring and try drawing him out with your will."

Tsuna takes a deep breath to steady himself. He shoots a hesitant glance at the hitman. "I...I don't really know what to do with my will. Do I just beg in my mind for him to come out, or something?"

"One - mafioso don't beg. Two - if you stop stalling and start concentrating, you could figure something out." Reborn sighs before hopping to his feet and ambling toward the door. "I'll be back in an hour. If nothing happens, don't try doing anything stupid."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

Reborn scoffs. "Of course. Do you really think I'd stick around for something like this?"

Somehow, Tsuna doubts Reborn is truly leaving. The infant will probably squeeze himself into a hideout in the wall and listen to Tsuna's valiant efforts in summoning a spirit - meaning that if Tsuna fails to bring the Primo out from the ring, Reborn's time will have been wasted, and Tsuna will probably have to go through another training session in hell.

_Such high stakes_, he thinks dryly as he spins the ring around his finger.

There has to be some way to connect to the spirit. The brunet recalls a moment a few weeks before when the Primo had shown himself - at his school, of all places - and then another time before that, when there had been a presence in his mind (both foreign and familiar) sending a thrum of warmth throughout his body. Maybe that had been his ancestor as well.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

Vongola Primo is molded entirely out of fire - silhouette first, and then all at once. The Sky flame enveloping the specter's body is so pure, so real, it shines gold and more beautiful than almost anything Tsuna has ever seen.

When the fire fades away, the Primo is left standing there, the edges of the door visible through his faded features. Tsuna reels back in surprise, his mouth unhinged, limp hands falling to the floor with two soft thumps. "Wow," he says, staring at his ancestor. "It worked."

Wait, _no_, he shouldn't have said that out loud. He gets to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in the process. "I-I mean - uh, P-Primo! Sorry for calling you out like this, um, I didn't really expect it to work-"

The first boss dips his head with a sort of grace Tsuna only dreams he himself could have. A small smile turns his mouth. "Hello, Decimo. I see you have discovered how to unleash me."

With a shrug, the brunet rubs the back of his neck. "Oh. Um, yeah."

"With the former Sun Arcobaleno's help, I may presume," the Primo continues, and then pauses. "Although it is no longer acceptable for me to address him as such anymore." For some reason, the spirit moves his eyes away from Tsuna to cast a quick look at the nearby wall. Then, he turns back to his descendent. "Congratulations, Decimo."

Tsuna twitches at the congratulatory response, mainly because - "I don't really know how I did it, though. Reborn told me to just focus on the ring and then use my will, or something, so I ended up just thinking really hard about how I want you to appear, and then...well."

The Primo's lips curve upward and his hand settles on his chest. "That is the technique. Willpower itself is the key - to many things in this world, in fact. To make a decision and to affirm it with one's mind... Resolution is the driving force in all people." His eyes, which have closed into a serene expression during this short speech, open again.

"...Oh." The teenager cringes at his lacking response. "I...well, thank you, for telling me. Um." He flounders for a topic of conversation, and ends up with - "While you're here, would you like some tea? Or, or coffee? I mean, I don't know if you can even drink things, but if, if you can, then..."

Normal people shouldn't be asking dead people if they want tea. What is _wrong_ with him?

He blinks back in surprise when the Primo tilts his head, considering his proposal. "What kinds do you have?"

So Tsuna tumbles down the stairs with his dead and floating ancestor in tow, whirling around the kitchen to find all of the coffee Reborn likes (he figures the hitman can forgive him just this once), as well as all the tea I-Pin and Fuuta like to keep around. In the back of his mind, he is screaming at the fact that this is actually happening and, well, he should really learn to stop being surprised at the unpredictability surrounding his life.

In a few minutes, Tsuna is setting a floral-patterned teacup in front of Primo at the small coffee table, and warming his hands up with his own. He doesn't know what he was thinking when he made two cups, because he doesn't really drink a lot of tea, but at least it gives him something to stare at while the spirit in front of him takes a sip.

The cup goes back on the saucer with a clink. "Decimo," the Primo says.

He flinches at the sound – of the ceramic and the spirit's voice. "Y-Yeah?"

"This tea is pretty good."

"Oh." Tsuna straightens up again. "Yeah, uh, I'm pretty sure Fuuta uses Bianchi's money to buy it at this really good store, I...I dunno."

"Thank you, Decimo. It's certainly better than what Lampo used to make." The Primo mutters the last sentence under his breath, and the brunet has the stop and stare at the wall for a moment because he's pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear that remark.

After a moment of silence - which isn't awkward, or tense, but maybe a little peaceful instead - Tsuna speaks up again, a flush threatening to splash his ears in red. He's shifted into a cross-legged position, hands picking at each other in his lap. "Uh, Primo...just Tsuna is fine. You don't have to keep calling me Decimo. I mean, not that it's such a bad thing to call me that, but I'm not used to that title, so..."

"In that case, I'd be grateful if you would call me Giotto." The Primo puts his tea down again and smiles. It could just be Tsuna's imagination, but he swears he sees the man's auburn eyes soften with genuine delight – and it's surprising, because none of his smiles from before have made his eyes smile like that. "'Primo' is what my Guardians call me, and only during formal occasions."

Tsuna leans back, partly stunned and partly honored. "Are - are you sure you want me to…?"

For the first time, the spirit takes on an air of bemusement. "We are related, after all. Distantly, yes, over many generations, but nevertheless."

"Right." Tsuna takes a sip of his own tea (it isn't bad, but not great, either). "Giotto-san, then. Um...thank you."

Giotto chuckles. "There is no need for your gratitude, Tsuna." He reaches for his cup again and cradles it in his hands. "Will you not answer to Decimo because you are not used to the title? Or perhaps some other reason?"

"Well, I'm not going to be a mafia boss," Tsuna says, out of sheer habit and reflex. He ducks his head in and sears crimson after his brain process the words that just came out of his mouth. Here he is, sitting in front of the founder of the Vongola, rejecting the position that can only belong to him.

It's a wonderful start.

Giotto doesn't seem affected by his announcement. "Why not?" he asks.

The brunet nearly chokes on empty air. "Well, I...it...I, um..."

"Forgive me for being so curious, Tsuna," Giotto says, his lips twitching upward. "But I want to know your reasons. I will not hold you against anything you say."

He gazes at his ancestor, seeing the warmth in the spirit's golden eyes and the complete lack of judgment in them, before he straightens his back and clears his throat. "I...uh, how do I put this? I don't think I'm supposed to be a mafia boss. I told you once before, that I wouldn't inherit the...the 'sins' of all the previous bosses - I'd destroy the Vongola first." He studies the rim of his cup like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Vongola wasn't supposed to be part of the mafia, in the beginning."

Giotto's voice is blank. "No, it wasn't."

Tsuna dares to glance upward, and to his surprise, the spirit's eyes have gone bleak and distant. He wonders if his words are falling on deaf ears. "It was supposed to be a vigilante group," he continues. "That's what it was when you created it, right? And I…I think it's great, how the Vongola used to be this group that protected people from the mafia, and saved lives, and did all the right things. But I guess it 'fell', at some point, and...and now we're not even...we're not even half as great as we used to be, right?"

Giotto stays silent.

Soft, blue light illuminates the table. The sink is starting to drip again - they haven't gotten around to fixing it yet.

"When I stand and fight for things," Tsuna says, quieter and steadier and a bit more seriously than before, "I do it for my friends. I do it to protect my family, and the people I care about - that's what I've always fought for. My Guardians do the same thing, I think. And we don't belong in the mafia because of that. I mean, we've been fighting against the mafia's ways this entire time. I think that's part of what Reborn's always been trying to teach me - that what we fight for is completely different than what the mafia fight for, and that's how it should be."

He remembers the cruel acts the Estraneo committed against Mukuro and Chrome, the look on Xanxus's face when he asked the other man - at some point in time - how many people he has killed. He remembers looking at the tip of Reborn's gun and being reminded that his tutor has killed thousands of people as a hitman.

Tsuna leans out and sighs, long and slow. "I'm not going to be a mafia boss. Even if I have to destroy the Vongola and everything it currently stands for, I am never going to be a part of the mafia. I...I want to help create something better, something that protects people." He ducks his head, suddenly aware of how long his speech has gone on. "Just like you did."

Silence falls. The sink continues to drip.

Tsuna is tempted to actually start drinking his tea.

Then, Giotto starts to laugh, and Tsuna would have to be blind - and deaf - to not notice the sheer happiness alight on the spirit's face. The brunet can't help but gape at the sight of his ancestor, who has always been nothing more than vague smiles and ghostly chuckles, bending over from the laughter wracking through his body, joy and something suspiciously like _relief_ apparent in the relaxed line of his shoulders.

"Sorry," the spirit wheezes between fits, eyes dancing with mirth. "I am...very glad you are my successor, Tsuna."

Tsuna doesn't really get it, but his ancestor doesn't seem to be angry with him. In fact, his smile is almost contagious.

* * *

"So you can come out of your ring whenever you want, but I can also force you back into the ring if I need to?" Tsuna holds the ring up to the sunlight while sketching out a graph with his other hand. "What if I want to talk to you, but you don't want to come out?"

"In that situation, you wouldn't be able to force me to." Giotto leans forward on the couch, analyzing Tsuna's math homework scattered across the floor with a strict eye. "Likewise, if I desire to leave the ring and materialize, but you do not share that desire, I would not be able to appear. Spirits and their bearers must make compatible decisions in order to work cooperatively."

He puts down his pencil. "Oh. Um...can I call out other people, too? Spirits besides you?"

"Besides me?" the spirit echoes.

Tsuna glances at Reborn next to the table. "Well, you know how I upgraded my Vongola Gloves in the future, and I kind of...went through a trial with all of the previous bosses there? Well, when I almost lost my ring that one time-" He winces at the memory of the grueling lessons that followed. "-I found it because the Vongola Ottavo and Sesto led me to where it was, right? So...So I'm assuming that they kind of, like...exist inside the ring, and if they do, I can probably call them out, right? Just like you, Giotto-san?"

They look at Giotto, who steeples his fingers and shrugs. "Well, you're not _completely_ wrong."

Tsuna catches the considering expression. "But…?"

His ancestor tilts his head, blonde locks swaying in a ghostly breeze. "All previous bearers of the ring leave behind an…imprint, of sorts. The ring itself is of a rather particular essence - it only responds to my bloodline, and while it can channel Dying Will Flames extraordinarily well, it also becomes attached to its users. When a person passes away and the ring receives a new wearer, the previous owner's Dying Will is...preserved, you could say, as a shadow. A fragment of his or her lifetime - just a small piece, no more than a second. It is the nature of the ring that allows such a phenomenon to occur."

Giotto offers them a puzzling smile. "The spirits of the other bosses do not hold a higher level of consciousness as I do. They are sentient beings, of course, but they are only glimpses. Their true souls have long since departed from this world. You would need a _very deep_ connection with one of those spirits to have them materialize."

"But they appeared when I was trying to find the ring," Tsuna points out. Beside him, Reborn seems almost enraptured by the spirit's monologue. "I didn't call them out. So...So does that mean you did?"

His ancestor nods serenely. "Normally, it would not have been easy for me to do so, but all spirits share the desire to protect the ring and offer guidance to its bearer. They were more than willing to appear." He gives Tsuna a strange look. "So, in answer to your question, you could call them out of the ring. It is certainly possible. However, if your motive is to extract information from them, they would not be able to answer you, as their memories and personalities are not entirely...intact."

"What about the previous guardians? Are they…Do they live in their rings, too?" Tsuna asks.

"Yes, although I've never seen them materialize myself."

Tsuna hums and fiddles with his pencil. "I...I guess that makes sense. And I won't do that - try to get information out of any of you guys, I mean," he adds the last part hastily.

"One of your predecessors did."

Giotto stares past the window, seemingly lost in thought. _Which one_, Tsuna almost asks, only to realize that he has made no further advancements to his graph and Reborn will kill him if he takes too long with them.

"Why are you different from them, Giotto-san?" Tsuna asks instead as he hurriedly plots the equation.

With a whispery sigh, the spirit lifts his cup of tea from the table, only to lower it again. His golden eyes have a blue-ish tint to them. "Perhaps the rings wanted us to stay."

Reborn hums thoughtfully as he takes another sip of coffee.

Tsuna doesn't quite understand – not yet, anyway. He glances up from the next problem. "Do...Do you want more tea?"

"That would be appreciated."

* * *

A sharp call stops him in his tracks. "Jyuudaime!"

Tsuna pauses in the middle of the sidewalk and looks behind his shoulder to see Gokudera jogging toward him, a schoolbag hefted in one hand. The sky is dazzlingly bright - a haze of heat settles over the horizon line. "Gokudera-kun?" he calls, wiping a dab of sweat off his brow. "Why are you here? We usually meet at the school entrance..."

Out of sheer habit, he glances at Reborn. The hitman stays silent, his expression as readable as the stone wall he's standing on.

Gokudera stops right in front of him, and immediately, Tsuna notices some things. His friend's posture is upright and firm, with a tight core, as if confident with how he carries himself. Instead of the usual grin, the Storm Guardian simply gazes at him with silvery resolve.

Tsuna knows something is wrong when the fire in Gokudera's eyes is not wild, but _tempered._

His Hyper Intuition screeches at him like an alarm. There has been only one time he has seen his right-hand like this, and that was when his right-hand wasn't actually there, and that person was actually—

"G?" he asks.

A wreath of scarlet flames surround the teenager like a cocoon before expelling themselves. Tsuna steps back as G steps forward - tall, stern-faced, a dark tattoo swirling over one of his cheekbones. Absentmindedly, he wonders if the Ottavo tried to mimic the same style. The corner of the Guardian's mouth curls up in...approval?

He nods at Tsuna, and then Reborn, who returns it with a tip of his hat and a slight smirk.

Tsuna studies Giotto's Storm Guardian carefully. When the taller man gives no indication of starting a conversation, the brunet shrugs - he swears he's gotten too used to the pandemonium in his life - and continues walking, making a small gesture for G to follow. In this breathtaking heat, he doesn't want to risk being late to school and having to fend off his Cloud Guardian again.

After a heartbeat, G falls into step next to him, long legs slowing to match his footfalls.

"So, uh, what are you doing here?" Tsuna asks. Reborn has never taught him the acceptable ways to start a conversation with of one of Vongola's founding fathers. "Why'd you pose as Gokudera-kun, anyway?"

G lets out a silent snort of amusement, although his eyes never leave Tsuna's face. "Sorry for testing you, Vongola Decimo. I never got the chance to see if your intuition's on par with Primo's."

Tsuna frowns, going over the spirit's words. A nagging feeling enters his mind. "Uh, G?"

"What?"

"It's...It's just that, uh, Giotto-san told me you guys only call him Primo on formal occasions."

Rather than being startled by this revelation, G merely raises his eyebrows a notch. "I'm talking to the future Vongola boss, so technically, this counts as formal. You call him Giotto-san, huh?"

Tsuna would have blushed crimson if Reborn wasn't cocking his pistol at his right - a clear warning to keep his composure or else the appropriate punishment would be dealt. "Y-Yeah, he told me to call him by his...first name. You can call me by my first name too - I mean, I kind of prefer it that way, and it's not like I care about whatever boss position I'm supposed to be in. And, uh...Can I keep calling you-"

"G? Yeah, that's fine. G-san sounds too much like _Jii_-san, anyway." The spirit scratches the back of his head. "You're an unusual kid, Tsunayoshi. You know that?"

Tsuna doesn't even bother denying it.

The impression G gives is certainly friendlier than before. When the power of the rings was at stake, Tsuna had found himself on the receiving end of an invisible arrow and a sharp, narrow mask of a man - but this time, G's lethal aura has lessened somewhat.

The spirit glances around, as if checking his surroundings. "So you brought Giotto out of the ring more than once, huh."

"What?" Taken aback by the twist in the conversation, the brunet quickly tries to pick up his own words. "Oh, uh, yeah, I have. Wait, how did you hear that?"

G sweeps a hand through his hair. "You told your Storm. I happened to be listening in."

Finally, Reborn speaks up. "You can hear what your wielder hears?" the hitman inquires. "The owner of your ring, that is?"

"Kind of. I don't bother listening to every little thing that kid hears in his daily life, but you got my attention when you mentioned Giotto." G's expression shifts as he runs over his own explanation. "That's how we know what's going on, you know. Otherwise we wouldn't have showed ourselves during the battle with the Mare, and Giotto wouldn't have known about what you were trying to accomplish with the ring trials."

Granted, it made sense, but Tsuna has difficulty comprehending it. "So Giotto-san could be listening to us right now," he says, squinting at the spirit. "So…he can literally hear everything that I can hear." In his humble opinion, even though he respects Giotto immensely, it seems like a massive invasion of privacy.

G shakes his head. "No, no, no, it doesn't _work_ like that. We get bits and pieces of it, but listening to stuff while we're lying dormant in our rings takes immense amounts of energy. There are restrictions and things."

Tsuna breathes a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, the spirit scowls at the sky, clearly irritated. "Anyway - okay, where was I before I started explaining all of this?"

"Uh, I brought Giotto out of my ring?" Tsuna offers. "Although it's more like he just sort of came out on his own-"

The Guardian's sharp look cuts him off. "Precisely. And you-" He huffs quietly. "You don't even realize how big of an accomplishment that is, do you?"

Tsuna's face scrunches. "Eh?"

In the distance, the murmur of the crowds of students rises in volume as the school comes into view. They jog across the street - which is technically jay-walking, but everyone jay-walks across this particular area, so there might as well be a walkway present - with a group of college students, which answers the question as to whether or not G can be seen by just anyone and everyone. Even though he can't be seen, the spirit is careful to avoid physical contact with them, however.

"Giotto hasn't come out of his ring willingly in a very long time," G reveals at last. Before Tsuna can fully process that piece of...interesting information, he adds, "Nevermind. Forget it. I guess it doesn't really matter, anyway, does it?"

The brunet recognizes it as a rhetorical question and tugs a water bottle out of his backpack. He takes a sip, resisting the urge to dump it all over his face and save himself from the heat. "Aren't you hot?"

G's raised eyebrows are quickly becoming his trademark expression. "Huh?"

"I mean, it feels like it's two-hundred degrees out here." He gestures toward G's outfit, a rumpled white shirt and black slacks. "Don't you feel it? Or are...are ring spirits immune to the weather and that sort of thing?"

"I'm burning up, actually," G admits. A wry smile passes over his face. "Unfortunately, we 'ring spirits' can't change clothes at will."

Tsuna's attention is caught by a head of silver hair lingering near the school entrance, seemingly in argument with his Rain Guardian.

When he turns back to G, he finds a red bonfire in his place, the silhouette of the spirit swiftly fading within. "Nice talking to you, Tsunayoshi," he hears as the flames disappear from sight.

Tsuna exchanges a glance with Reborn and mulls over their conversation. He still doesn't understand why G came to him in the first place.

* * *

Giotto tends to appear whenever Tsuna is alone (as in, alone excluding Reborn's constant presence) and usually swamped with homework. This time, the spirit stays in place as the door swings open and his friends' voices float past their ears. Tsuna blinks the sunlight out of his eyes and stands up to greet them-

-and squawks as a man clad in ancient attire and a tall hat stumbles through the doorway, swords strapped around his waist. Behind him, G steps in with a perpetual scowl. If Tsuna squints, he can see the faintest outline of the wall through their skin.

"Oh, hello, Giotto," Asari Ugetsu says cheerfully, brushing off his robes. "G and I decided to pay a visit." He greets Tsuna with a soft smile. "It's been a while, Vongola Decimo, former Sun Arcobaleno. I am glad to see you are faring well."

Reborn tips his hat. "Ciaossu."

"Just Tsuna is fine," Tsuna says, as if that sentence has become his new opening for every introduction with these spirits.

As they exchange bows (although Tsuna tries not to look too awkward, Asari's graceful movements make him feel like a one-legged duck in comparison), Gokudera and Yamamoto half-step, half-trip into the room. "Hey, Tsuna!" his Rain says, waving at him.

"Jyuudaime!" Gokudera offers Giotto a hasty bow, which the spirit accepts with no small amount of amusement. He turns back to the brunet. "Jyuudaime, I'm really sorry! I tried to get them to warn you beforehand instead of barging in like this-"

G rolls his eyes in the background. "Kid, you didn't even ring the doorbell. I bet you know where the spare key to this house is, given how often you come here."

"And you haven't even told us why you're here!" Gokudera rounds on his predecessor, seething. "You've been following me around since I left the house, and literally the only thing you've done so far is criticize me-"

"On the things that need criticizing - like your patience, brat. You almost got into a fight because you lost your temper while waiting in line at that stand. Did you completely forget the lesson I taught you during your trial, or are you just completely brain-dead?"

"Please be civil, G," Asari chides, wrapping a hand around the other man's shoulder. "So long as you are here, you should respect Tsunayoshi's household." His eyes glint with some hidden, ominous meaning. "As a _guest._"

G shakes it off, takes a calming breath, and dives onto the couch next to Giotto. His head collapses into the cushions, pink (red? orange? salmon-colored?) bangs folding lopsidedly around his face. Gokudera bristles and eases himself into a sitting position next to Tsuna.

"Ugetsu-san is here because he was curious about your house, Tsuna," Yamamoto says as he plops down beside them.

The Storm spirit scoffs. "In other words, you had nothing better to do."

Asari makes a small _so-shoot-me_ gesture, sunlight highlighting the creases of his smile. "Neither did you, I daresay."

A year ago, Tsuna would have thrown his hands up in the air and pondered the absurdity of his own life. Now, he still throws his hands up in the air, but simply lowers them again to continue with his note-taking. "You're here because you're bored? Don't you guys even, I don't know, have hobbies or stuff to do in your free time?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work like that," Giotto says, laughter in his voice. "Tea, you two?"

Asari and G lean away from him. "I think we're fine, thank you," the Rain spirit replies.

"It's nothing like Lampo's tea, I assure you."

G makes a face. "Even so. I can still remember the aftertaste of that stuff. It's like I'm scarred for life." He gestures at Tsuna and his friends, who have gotten out their textbooks. "You're kidding me. Is this what you've been doing, Giotto? Watching the kid do his book-work?"

Giotto slants him a long look that speaks volumes. "At least I haven't been following him around, G."

"That's enough of that," Asari interjects mildly as G's mouth opens for a retort. "I don't think any of us have the right to speak up on that matter."

The other two spirits turn their heads to stare at him. "What have you been doing, then?" G asks in an accusatory tone.

Yamamoto looks up at them. "Oh, he helped me clean up the store. And then I asked him to play a bit of his instrument before we left." He laughs, causing Gokudera to scowl. "Ugetsu-san's a great musician!"

Asari smiles back at the teenager. "You flatter me, Yamamoto-kun."

"Right, right, so you've been doing nice things and such. Typical," G grunts, folding his arms behind his head in a disgruntled manner.

Tsuna finishes his notes on the second section of chapter fourteen with a flourish. Satisfied, he glances upward and catches an odd, wavering smile on Giotto's face before disappears behind the rim of his cup.

* * *

They are sitting in Tsuna's bedroom, running over simple techniques for Tsuna's Dying Will Flames, when a wailing voice signals a new arrival better than a siren could.

"Giotto! Giotto! Giotto! Hey, Giotto! Giotto!"

Tsuna feels his eyebrows skyrocket at the familiarity of the voice, stirring his intuition ever-so-slightly. He peeks at his ancestor. "So, uh, aren't you going to answer that?"

"Definitely not," Giotto says. "Focus on your hand again. Remember - don't let your flames expel all at once. Just let it grow."

The brunet bites the inside of his lip and obeys. A pressure forms at the point in the center of his palm, and a wisp of orange flame flickers into existence. _Let it grow_, he thinks as the fire grows in size. Warm, golden light splashes some very light shadows over his arm.

"I, the G-Great Lampo-sama - ow! _Giotto_! G's trying to kill meee!"

Quickly, he glances around. Reborn is nowhere in sight; the infant is probably doing damage control downstairs. "Giotto?" he asks tentatively.

The spirit smiles, and a flutter of unbidden pride enters Tsuna's chest. "Good work. Does it feel stable?"

"Y-Yeah, I think so."

"Help me! _Help me!_ Giotto! Save me! G, I didn't even do anything! I swear I didn't even do anything!"

Something glass-like and fragile shatters below them. The sound is followed by a muffled thump, explicit cursing (Tsuna has the decency to wince), and a few fired gun-shots with Reborn undoubtedly being the source.

"Get back here, you spoiled brat!" G's voice rings through the walls - Tsuna swears the floorboards have started to tremble. "Hey, let me go! I was _born_ to kill this little-"

Glass shatters. They might be breaking the dinner plates.

Lambo starts to cry.

"Oh, no," Tsuna mutters under his breath as the flame in his hand extinguishes. To his surprise, Giotto mutters the exact same words at the exact same time, in the same horrified tone of voice.

At the brunet's incredulous stare, the spirit clears his throat. "Ugetsu can handle them well enough," he assures him after a pause. "Lampo tends to cause some problems around G. I'll have them pay you back for the reparations."

"So you...You're not going down there? To break them up, or anything?"

Giotto cocks his head, listening to the screeching turmoil of chaos rising into the air. "Are you?"

Tsuna takes a deep, courageous breath, and decides not to risk it. "No."

"Exactly." His ancestor gestures for Tsuna's hand again. "Shall we continue?"

* * *

"GOOD AFTERNOON, SAWADA TSUNAYOSHI!"

"Oh, _god!" _Tsuna jolts as a firm arm made of steel cords slaps him across the neck, accompanied by booming syllables - he didn't know it was possible for someone's voice to break the sound barrier. He stumbles, comes to a hasty stop, takes a glance at his harasser, and chokes a little at the sight of the black, gold-trimmed robe.

After a disorientated second, Knuckle pulls away and stares at him. "You speak the Lord's name with such _extreme_ enthusiasm!"

"I was - I was surprised," he says, chills running up and along his spine like frenzied ants. Spirits really had no presence at all. "Sorry. Wh-What are you doing here?"

Knuckle beams at him. Tsuna imagines his smile to be made up of brilliant, blinding, eye-shattering sun molecules. "I saw you running by and decided to say hello - and I must say, your fitness is commendable! Do you take jogs often?"

The brunet smiles even as his fingers flutter over the skin of his arms, trying to banish the goosebumps and chills that have randomly decided to plague him. "Kind of, I guess? Reborn - my mentor - usually makes me warm up like this before I start my actual training." He shivers and shrinks in on himself.

"Something wrong?" the priest asks, frowning.

Tsuna gives him a weak shrug. "No, I'm fine, I - I just got really cold all of a sudden."

"Ah, yes, Alaude tends to have that extreme effect on people." Knuckle looks over Tsuna's shoulder and tilts his mouth downward. "People will drop dead if you keep glaring at them like that instead of greeting them properly, you know!"

Stiffly, Tsuna turns his head around.

Alaude, still as a statue, glowers back at him.

His intake of breath is sharp enough to cut his own throat. He shudders as if a pulse of electricity runs through him, heart stuttering in the process. "Hhhhhhh_youuuuu-_"

Knuckle glances down at him in surprise as he cringes backward. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT, SAWADA?" he asks, loud enough to shatter Tsuna's eardrums. Alaude makes a strangled hissing noise that shows he doesn't appreciate the volume either.

Tsuna leans away from both of them. "Wh-Why can't you guys just approach me from the _front_? Like _normal people_?!"

Alaude levels him a flat glare that effectively expresses just how unimpressed he is. Tsuna cringes, feeling small and somewhat…herbivory. "Do not accuse me for your failure to recognize my presence," the spirit mocks. "You are disappointing, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

The brunet gapes at how unfair that statement is. Really, they might as well be ghosts. What kind of injustice-?

"Be nice, Alaude," Knuckle admonishes.

Icy blue chips flash dangerously from behind the collar of his coat. The Cloud Guardian turns away, his blonde hair and skin too pale to be alive in any sense of the word. "I'm tired of this. I'm leaving."

The Sun Guardian merely makes a face. "What? Why?"

"This venture is pointless." Alaude's tone seems to freeze over the surrounding fields.

In contrast, Knuckle's words seem to thaw them. "Pointless? We're just paying Giotto a friendly visit! You were extremely willing to come along before!"

"Delusions."

"Besides, we're half-way there already! That boy, Hibari Kyoya – he was encouraging you to come along as well, wasn't he?"

Behind Alaude's stony countenance, Tsuna catches a fleeting flicker of utter disbelief, which he only recognizes because he's seen it on his own face before. "_No_, he wanted me to leave the ring so he could fight me. He was attacking you the entire time you were in his office, trying to…persuade me to come out."

"Was he really?" Knuckle laughs heartily (behind him, the brunet tries to cover his ears as discreetly as possible). "Well, I hardly – hey, wait, Alaude!"

The man's figure is already replaced with a violet cloud, pure and mystical in quality. "Go to Giotto on your own," says the voice that floats out of the fire.

"Hold on, Alaude! Honestly – I'm going to tell him about this, you know!"

"Don't be a child," Alaude says scathingly, and in a final flash of purple light, disappears back into his ring.

Knuckle heaves a long-suffering sigh and glances back at Tsuna. "Sorry about him. He's not the most sociable man I've met."

"Uh," says Tsuna, squinting at the blank spot where Alaude used to be. "Yeah. It's fine. No offense…taken."

He receives another earth-quaking, mountain-shaking, good-natured slap on the back for his efforts. "GOOD MAN!" Knuckle bellows, beaming at him with the intensity of a thousand dying suns. "I can sense Giotto hanging around G, so I'll be off to see them both. Keep up with your training, Sawada! WORK HARD TO THE EXTREME!"

The spirit departs in a flash of blinding golden light. He leaves Tsuna standing in the middle of the path, surrounded by weeds, reeling from the full exploding force of the sun.

Somewhere in the midst of his own incredulity, the brunet wonders why all of the ring spirits have decided to start appearing out of the blue.

* * *

"Why're they all appearing out of the blue?" Tsuna asks, blinking blearily up at his ancestor.

As summer creeps up on them, the days have become longer. Tsuna doesn't bother turning on his room lights anymore – not when the sunlight through window is bright enough to light up his homework now, and casts far prettier shadows across the walls. Currently, he sprawls across his bed, working through math problems as a cool breeze wafts through his hair.

Next to the windowsill, Giotto's mantle glows brightly with a cyan-ish outline coming from the sky outside. "What do you mean?" the spirit asks mildly as he fiddles with the calculator.

"Like…your Guardians, Giotto-san." The teenager taps his pencil against the pillows. "At first, I thought you'd be the only one to show up every once in a while. But then G and Asari-san appeared, and then Lampo-san and Knuckle-san and even Alaude-san."

"Oh." His ancestor taps his chin. "They're curious."

"About what?"

A smile plays on his lips. "You."

"M-Me?"

"At first, yes. We can sense each other's presence when we appear, albeit vaguely. They probably felt my presence and wondered why I materialized when there was no situation that called for it. G and Asari were quite surprised when they learned the reason for it – which was, and still remains to be, you."

Giotto's eyes wander over to Tsuna's, who can't help the flush spreading through his cheeks. "However," the spirit continues with a knowing smile, "my Guardians would not continuously reappear unless they were truly motivated to do so. Given how often they've been accompanying their descendants, I would say that they, too, have taken some interest in their bearers."

The brunet ducks his head down, trying to hide his own embarrassment. Judging from Giotto's chuckle, he's failing miserably at it.

He gives up and rubs the back of his head. "I…I don't really get it. I don't get why they _would_, I mean. Oh, and Giotto-san – can you add sixty-three, twenty-eight, and nine, please?"

Giotto brushes his mouth with his thumb as he taps in the numbers. Tsuna thinks that's a habit of his. "You may not know this, Tsuna, but compared to the previous generations, you and your Guardians are very unique, which is..." He pauses. "It says 2160. That doesn't seem right."

"Did – Did you clear the screen before you–"

"Oh. No, I didn't. Just a moment." He makes a disgruntled face at the calculator, which would have looked completely wrong if Tsuna hadn't _already_ witnessed Vongola's first generation boss roll his eyes after being surprised by the beeping sounds of the oven a week before. "Ah, that's better. The answer is 100 exactly."

Tsuna waves a thumbs-up as he jots it down. "Thanks, Giotto-san."

"You're welcome. As I was saying, about your Guardians… Well, bluntly put, we've never seen anyone quite like them before."

Pineapple-styled hair and _extremely_ loud cheers echo in fragments of images and sounds throughout his head. "Really?" Tsuna asks weakly. "Are you _sure_?"

Giotto has the decency to look at least a little apologetic. "I suppose you do resemble us in our younger years, when the Vongola first began to form. In physical appearances, at least." He closes his eyes and smiles, like a joke was said and nobody but him could hear it. "And yet, at the same time, you are entirely different from us. Different, and indefinitely better. This is the first time we've ever seen the likes of it, and it is…intriguing."

Tsuna's mouth drops open. He hastily scrambles to pull it back into position.

The spirit gestures at the calculator in hand, irritation displayed across every single one of his features. That rare solemnity, the kind Tsuna doesn't understand but still sends chills down his spines whenever he sees it, gets tucked away without a trace. "Just as we have never seen the likes of this before. Incredible, how far technology advances in only a couple of centuries. If I had something like this when I still had paperwork…"

Tsuna peers at him over the top of the surrounding pillows. "I…I admired you," he admits, fighting his own blush. The words seem to flow out of his mouth for no rational reason – maybe because of how _bitter _Giotto seems, all of a sudden. "I respected you. I still do, I mean. Ever since I saw you during the inheritance ceremony, and even more after the whole thing with Enma's family, I've always wanted…to be like you, you know?"

His ancestor looks a little bemused, if not melancholic. "What could you possibly have seen in me?"

If the question is a bit on the sardonic side, Tsuna doesn't comment on it. "You were selfless," he says.

"As are you."

The statement gets reflected back into his face so abruptly that Tsuna doesn't even have the thought to blush. "I…I try," he finally stammers.

Giotto glances up from the calculator again, his face softening into something like pride, gentle and kind. "Yes, you try," murmurs the spirit, "and though you may be unaware, we – as in I, and all the people you've bonded with – are undeniably grateful for you. And…I appreciate your words, Tsuna."

Tsuna ducks his head again and smiles back, warm and happy and kind of proud of himself, too. Reborn would probably shoot him for getting his ego inflated, but he figures he can have this one moment.

The moment passes as Giotto directs his gaze toward the window again. "It occurs to me that the only guardian of mine that has yet to make an appearance to you is Daemon," he muses out loud. "Then again, I suppose it's only a matter of time before he shows up as well."

A glass ball inside his head seems to shatter. "Daemon?" the brunet echoes, horror dawning. "Daemon Spade? Th-The guy we used to be fighting with a year ago?"

Giotto's eyes light up. "Ah, yes. I hope your guardians don't happen to hold any remaining grudges towards him. That wouldn't end well."

Images flash through his head. Pineapple-styled hair. A military uniform. Ominous chuckling.

Tsuna drops his head into the pillow, half-heartedly trying to suffocate himself.

"…Tsuna?"

* * *

**Endnotes:** WHEW so glad this first chapter is done. also, the rings in this story are described as they are in their 'true form', and only appear in their 'vongola gear' form when activated or used in battle. Not sure if that's how it works in canon, but that's how it'll work in this fic. whoop!

reviews, favorites, and follows are very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings:** violence, language, GEN, after-manga timeline

**Summary:** Not long after Giotto and his Guardians begin to leave their rings and pay daily visits to the material world, Tsuna starts to wonder why they all look so young.

**Author's Note:** hahahaha i just typed like what 7000 words in a single day, what am i doing

* * *

On a Sunday afternoon, Tsuna makes some tea.

This time, it's for himself to drink. His mom has taken Lambo and I-Pin out for ice-cream, Bianchi and Fuuta are heading to Gokudera's apartment for some sort of discreet business, and Reborn is nowhere to be found. None of the first generation spirits have appeared to him yet, so he assumes the house is vacant excluding his own presence.

After making tea for Giotto an unlimited number of times, Tsuna can probably do it in his sleep. He grabs a packet of chai tea – which is his favorite, as he's recently discovered – and plugs in the kettle.

On the wall, the clock ticks in a steady rhythm.

Then, a single footstep lands with a soft thump behind him. Tsuna doesn't even bother turning around, and simply pinches the bridge of his nose. "Would you guys stop sneaking up on me like this?" he groans. "You already know I can't sense you."

A long silence ensues, before –

"Pardon?"

The unfamiliar voice creates furious itches across Tsuna's skin. He whips around, the packet of tea flying out of his hands, because if that voice is the same one that belongs in his memory and belongs to the person he thinks it is – then _oh, no._

Daemon Spade stands behind the kitchen island and smirks.

"_Augh_," he manages to get out.

"I was hoping for a more dramatic reaction," says the spirit as he plucks the packet of tea off the tabletop. "You are disappointing in more ways than one, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna scowls and rubs his arms, trying to wipe away the chills. "N-N-Now you sound like Alaude-san. Wh-What are you even doing here?"

A slender eyebrow raises in response. "That is none of your concern, boy."

In other words, the Mist spirit is curious, just as Giotto said he would be. Tsuna groans internally and runs his hands through his hair. He finds himself caught between option one – yelling at Daemon, and option two – handling this without any animosity attached. "Um, do…do Mukuro and Chrome know you're here?"

"I hardly need their permission to visit places of my choosing." Daemon sneers and tosses the tea packet back to him. His blue-eyes, the color of rain clouds at dusk, flash with indescribable meaning. "However, they _do_ know that I've left my ring. I've already paid them a small…visit."

The brunet stares at him. "Please, please, _please_ say Kokuyo Land is still standing."

Daemon looks miffed. "Of course it is."

"Oh. Good." Tsuna sags on the spot. His fears of the entire landscape being demolished because of a battle between the Mists begin to dwindle. He whirls around again as the water in the kettle begins to grumble. Quickly, he throws the packet into his cup and pours the water in, steam rising around his hands in small, curling wisps.

When he turns around again, Daemon is staring at him like he's the most interesting specimen he's ever encountered. It makes the hairs along his neck prickle.

The brunet stares back. "Do you…uh, did you want some tea, too?"

The look the spirit throws at him clearly expresses just how moronic that question sounds. Then, he chuckles. "No, I've had just about enough tea to last multiple lifetimes."

"Why do I feel like that's aimed at me?"

As the high-pitched complaint drifts into their ears, coming from the nearby room, Tsuna can't help but jolt in surprise. He didn't think anyone else was around, which is frustrating. The least they could do is _warn him_ whenever they decide to pop in.

Daemon gives Tsuna a condescending glance and lopes over to the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets. The Mist spirit stares at something in the living room, his back facing the brunet. "I'm surprised you've managed to stay quiet for this lo – _what_ are you _doing_?"

"Taking a nap. Or at least, I was." Lampo's voice drawls. Shuffling sounds soon follow, as if the Lightning spirit is stretching across the pillows. "You two just had go and wake me up, huh?"

Daemon scoffs. "Don't be a fool. It is physically impossible for us to sleep."

"Hey, I was resting my eyes!"

"Wait, you guys can't sleep?" Tsuna rubs the back of his neck. "Then Lampo…why do you always come here and…_pretend_ to sleep on the couch?"

Lampo brushes past Daemon and stumbles into the kitchen, green hair ruffled, a frown plastered on his face. "Come on, I can kind of lightly doze off if I want to. It's relaxing. Say, do you have orange juice?"

Tsuna tosses the tea packet into the trash and takes a sip. His cheeks burn with warmth. "Sorry, but I think we just ran out. Mom might get some today, though."

The Lightning spirit groans and slaps a hand over his eyes, like the world may as well be ending and he doesn't want to witness it. "Kill me."

"An impossible feat, to kill a dead man," Daemon replies. His eyebrows twitch minutely. "Don't tell me _this_ is what you all have been doing this whole time."

Lampo peers at the other spirit through the gaps in his fingers. "I don't get you."

"This. _Napping_. Drinking orange juice. Wasting time and energy to accomplish generally _pointless_ tasks." The illusionist's hand slashes through the air, an incredulous twist to his face. He sounds scandalized. "You have all degenerated to a point _below_ being epitomes of idiocy."

"Look, the couch is comfy, and the food is good! That's all there is for me!" Nervously, Lampo inches away from Daemon's increasingly-darkening expression. "I have no idea what the others are thinking when they do stuff around here!"

Daemon lifts his chin and glowers at both of them. "Ridiculous."

Tsuna cringes, ignoring the way Lampo trembles and ducks behind the counter. "I…I heard you guys get bored sometimes," the teenager offers.

His former enemy's glare could have seared holes straight through the entire dimension.

"_Sometimes_," he stresses.

Finally, Daemon's trademark smirk returns to him, as does his characteristic laughter. Both seem strained, though, as if he's just about fed up with everything and anything in existence. Tsuna can relate.

"So do you have any memories of when we fought against you?" the teenager asks between sips of tea. "Back when Enma was our enemy, you know? I mean, even though we fought, like…a different version of you, you're still the same person. So do you remember?"

Abruptly, the laughter cuts off. Daemon's lip curls – a cruel expression. "I do," he says curtly.

In a flash, the spirit's body is encased in Mist Flames, curling through the air like actual smoke. It disappears a second later. Any talk about the fight – about Daemon's defeat – seems to be a sensitive subject.

Tsuna blinks rapidly at the sudden departure. He leans over the edge of the counter and sees that Lampo is also nowhere to be found.

In a desperate attempt to stave off an impending headache, he gulps downs the rest of his drink at record speed.

* * *

Ever since Alaude apparently revealed himself to the prefect, Hibari has been monitoring every half-inch of the school grounds for anything that even remotely signifies the specter's presence. He stalks through the halls with a lethal ferocity constantly expelled from his being, steely eyes hinting at a promise of murder, an eager smirk sometimes flickering across his face.

None of the students at Namimori High are comforted by it. Tsuna has started looking twice in all directions every time he turns the corner.

"That bastard Hibari needs to calm down," Gokudera dares to remark one day – albeit in a low, whispery voice, which shows that even the Storm Guardian is reluctant to start a fight if the Cloud happens to overhear him.

Yamamoto just laughs, with a touch of anxiousness underneath.

The next time he sees Alaude show up, Tsuna is staying after school on the rooftop. He's alone, which is unusual for him, but only because he hasn't finished taking measurements of the mass and acceleration of his toy vehicle for his science class, and none of his friends were free to stay after school along with him.

What's even more unusual is that Hibari has yet to notice his presence, but Tsuna just takes it as his lucky day and hurriedly tries to finish up his work.

As he scrawls down the rest of the data in his notebook, a sharp blast of killing intent makes him leap to his feet. The sound of slashing metal rises up from below. Two Clouds in battle, his intuition spouts out of nowhere.

Cautiously, Tsuna peers over the railing to watch.

Hibari stands beside the photography room, tonfas drawn, and a scowl embedded into his face. A few meters away, Alaude stares back coolly with his hands still buried in his trench-coat.

Nearby, a student sprawls unconscious on the field. Tsuna recognizes her as Ueno Aiko, a year above him, whom he saw once in a while as he walked down the hallways. Although they never talked in person, he always gets the feeling that she thinks lowly of him as soon as their eyes meet.

In a flash, Hibari moves, tonfas spinning in a whirlwind of black and silver.

Tsuna can barely catch Alaude's reaction. One moment, the spirit is simply standing there – the next, his body has weaved past the bars of steel, one hand reaching up to press against Hibari's back and push. The extra force is enough to make the prefect stumble.

It's a classic move, to use the opponent's momentum against them. Any experienced fighter knows the theory, according to Reborn. The brunet just didn't think his Cloud Guardian would be the one to fall for it.

Hibari spins around, death smoldering in his eyes. Tsuna can't help but lean back a little. He expected the prefect to be pleased with the opportunity, not infuriated at the spirit's appearance.

"You will be bitten to death," the Cloud utters with a sense of finality, each word dropping like an icicle.

Tsuna can't see Alaude's face clearly, but he gets the feeling his expression has morphed into one of detachment. "Don't try," intones the spirit. "Don't bother."

Hibari lunges forward, eyes flaring in a way that would've made a lesser man beg for mercy. His predecessor glides effortlessly out of reach.

"Running away?" the prefect bites out.

Alaude doesn't answer.

Obviously enraged at the prospect of being toyed with, the teenager releases a hooked flail from the end of one of his tonfas. It loops around and cracks through the air like a whip, but misses its target.

"For attacking a student at Namimori High School, you will be punished," Hibari promises as the line retracts.

Tsuna feels a chill run along his spine as he glances back at Aiko. He has no idea what happened, but if what his Cloud Guardian implies is true, then – well, _why?_

Alaude actually scoffs. "This is why I will not fight you."

On the rooftop, the brunet frowns, turning the words over in his head without comprehension.

"Explain," Hibari snaps.

"Figure it out yourself."

Abruptly, the Cloud spirit's figure erupts into flames, as what usually happens before any spirit disappears. Tsuna breathes out, thinking the confrontation is at its end – until Hibari lashes out again, his hooked line shooting straight into the fire.

This is just more proof that his Cloud Guardian is psychotic.

Just as the line seems to brush against the purple mass, the flames peel away, and Alaude – still there, faded but visible – deflects the hook with one hand. A glint of shining silver reveals the pair of handcuffs held tightly in his fingers.

Tsuna almost looks away at the frostiness on the spirit's face. It goes beyond ice, beyond the poles – so cold it seems to burn him on the inside.

Hibari seems to sense the sudden danger he's been put in, because he keeps his face stoic. Under normal circumstances, the brunet thinks he would be smirking. "Stay where you are," he commands, "and explain yourself."

Alaude lifts his head and glares down at the prefect. From afar, Tsuna can't help but notice which one of them is the predator and which one has become prey. "If you cannot realize your own faults, you are unworthy of any explanation. You are blind."

"I don't – "

"_You are blind."_ Alaude takes a thunderous step forward. "Punishment is suitable for criminals. You have yet to understand the difference between those who are guilty and those who are innocent." His expression holds all the intensity of a howling blizzard. "Understand this. I will give you nothing, _nothing at all_, until you are worthy of it."

Hibari stands his ground, formidable as a tempest, but even Tsuna can see the uncertainty in his stance. "What did _that student_ have anything to do with this?" he spits out.

Before the last words leave his mouth, Alaude is already flickering away, leaving empty fire in his wake.

This time, the prefect doesn't attack him.

Tsuna watches as the Cloud stalks away, each step accompanied by an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. He takes a deep breath, mind whirling, and turns back to his data tables.

Alaude stands silently on the rooftop in front of him.

The brunet manages to bite back a shriek. Instead, he takes the deepest inhale of his life, so sharp that it feels like his lungs might burst.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," the spirit says.

For some reason, Tsuna has the urge to apologize and prostrate himself. "Wh – I – "

The sharpness of Alaude's look goes right through his soul and freezes half of his heart. "You were watching," he states.

Tsuna takes a few shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself (in vain). "Yeah," he says numbly.

Alaude continues to look at him, as if waiting – or expecting – something. Tsuna isn't quite sure _what,_ but if he keeps being subjected that frozen stare any longer, he might just have a stroke.

He dives for something to say, hating the lead that suddenly weighs down his tongue. "Uh…um…wh-why did you say Hibari-san was…blind?"

"Who is Ueno Aiko?" Alaude merely replies, his gaze measured.

As soon as the inquiry is spoken, he goes back into his ring, leaving Tsuna to suffer through his own terror and confusion.

* * *

"The current state of the Vongola Famiglia, under your command, is absolutely _distressing."_

Tsuna would have thrown up his hands if they weren't being weighed down by multiple bags of groceries. "For the last time, I'm telling you," he says, "I haven't inherited the Vongola yet."

"Are you so daft, boy, that you've forgotten your title and rank as Vongola Decimo?"

"I'm not Vongola Decimo! I haven't even gone through with the ceremony! I mean…you do realize Nono-san isn't going to give me the position until after I've graduated high school?"

Daemon's silent footsteps trail after him as they cross the bridge. "And when will this take place?"

"Three years from now, probably. I might even wait until after I've graduated college, depending on how my grades go."

"That is unacceptable," the spirit says behind him, his tone caught between skepticism and indignation. "You are expected to take up your responsibilities as soon as possible."

"Well, I - I am, and I will! Didn't you say you could trust me with the Vongola right before you died?"

Daemon's long strides easily overtake his. The spirit whirls around to face him. "I'm beginning to regret that decision, boy."

Tsuna stutters in mid-step, his entire body tensing at the sight of Daemon's smile. "We're not fighting again," he says as firmly as possible, refusing to be intimidated. The ache of broken bones and open wounds briefly stirs within his memory. "I already defeated you once. I…We proved ourselves to you."

The spirit simply chuckles. It could just be Tsuna's imagination, but he thinks he sees a second shadow lengthening maliciously against the ground. "I told you not to bring shame to the famiglia. Clearly, you have not understood. The mafia has no space for childish antics."

His response is automatic. "I'm not going to be a mafia boss!"

Daemon leans back and laughs. "Nonsense. What will you do, form a _vigilante group_?" he jests. "Like your fool of an ancestor did?"

Tsuna clenches his fists and keeps his silence.

The spirit's laughter dies away. "You're serious," he says flatly.

The brunet glares at him. "If you have a problem with – "

"I _do_ have a problem with it," Daemon hisses, resembling an affronted feline. The lethal aura has all but dissipated. "I will burn the Mist Ring to _ashes_ before I ever allow that to happen." He rubs at his temples. "A _vigilante group_. It's like Giotto's damnable _adventures_ all over again."

Tsuna can only stare as emotional pain radiates off the spirit. "I-I feel like I should be offended," he says.

Daemon spins and stalks away from him. "Unbelievable. Just…unbelievable. I'm almost tempted to feel _sorry_ for your Guardians. At least you're not nearly as brazen as Giotto, from what I've seen, but I'd rather _die _a third time than see another vigilante group formed." He makes a helpless gesture with his hands, frustration etched into every line of his body. "_Another one._ I knew this generation would be a disappointment, but this – this is _worse._ Heavens _help us."_

The brunet feels his annoyance spike. "L-Look," he calls at the distant figure, "if all you're going to do is complain about where I'm taking the Vongola, you can leave! It's either that, or you _at least _help me carry these groceries!"

Daemon jerks around hard enough to get whiplash. His gaze alternates between Tsuna's face and the bags containing various consumables dangling off his arms. "What," he says.

Tsuna decides he doesn't like that look on the spirit's face. It's the kind of look that he often gives his Guardians just to show that they're the insane ones, not him. The fact that he's now on the receiving end of it is kind of…_vaguely worrisome._

* * *

"When are you going to leave?!" Gokudera snarls.

The Mist spirit gives him a casual millisecond-long side glance, as if idly taking note of the presence of an ant on the corner of the sidewalk. He turns back to Tsuna and continues his lecture. "The Vongola Famiglia should remain firmly _within_ the mafia's territories – "

"Hey, don't ignore me!"

Yamamoto pats the other teen on the back. "Maa, maa, calm down, alright? He's not doing anything wrong."

The hand gets batted away. "Will you be quiet, baseball freak? Did you already forget everything this guy's done?!"

"Watch your temper, kid," G drones for the tenth time as he sits at the edge of the dining table. "You're not pulling out your bombs inside this house."

Gokudera rounds on his predecessor. "Like you're one to talk! You're not comfortable with that guy being around, either!"

"No, but I'm not trying to – "

"I hope the two of you realize that Daemon can hear you, seeing as he happens to be occupying the same room," Asari says mildly as he browses the fridge. The Rain spirit can say literally anything and make it sound as mundane as the weather forecast. "Tsuna, I can't seem to find the butter."

Both Storms snap their heads around to glare at the Rain spirit. "Don't tell us to play nice around him," G growls.

Daemon gives them looks of sheer amusement. "G, playing nice? Hardly possible."

"I'll _murder you_."

"Please, try."

"How can you not find the butter?" Knuckle asks, craning his neck around as he raids the pantry. "It's at the top! Look at the TOP! The TOP SHELF!"

"Ah, thank you, Knuckle."

"As I was saying," Daemon says, leaning forward as Tsuna reaches for one of the knives hanging against the wall, "you cannot simply remove the Vongola from its underground connections. It will not be done."

Tsuna turns around, trying to resist the urge to stab himself in the face and be done with it. It doesn't help that Mukuro has been cackling madly against the wall for the past few minutes, and all the free space behind the kitchen counter has been taken over in some sort of _conquest_ of _spirits_. "Can we talk about this later? I'm trying to make lunch and there's too many people in here. And Giotto-san – " He flails for a moment as his ancestor reaches for the oven buttons. "Giotto-san, please don't touch those!"

He's honestly surprised something hasn't been destroyed yet.

The hand withdraws. "Ah, sorry." Giotto turns to face his Mist Guardian. "By the way, Daemon, I certainly have no objects to the direction Tsuna wishes to take the Vongola."

The response is positively bone-chilling. "_Of course_ you wouldn't."

"Oi, Sawada, what're you making?" Knuckle calls.

"Daemon, if you're not going to help make lunch, sit down."

The fridge door slams shut. "What else did you need, Tsuna? Butter and…"

"Oi, Sawada-"

"Vegetable oil, for the pan. It's in the bottom – yeah, the bottom cupboard. Thanks."

"You are legitimately helping this boy make and serve – "

"Oi, Sawada – "

"God, Daemon, would you and your damn hair just get out of the way? I'm need room to take out the pan."

"My hair is _not_ a part of this – "

"What are you guys even trying to _do_?" Lampo asks as he steps into the doorway.

"Oh, get out of here, Lampo. You're not helping."

"Neither are you, it seems like."

"No, your hair has _everything_ to do with – "

"Perhaps we should – "

"Guys, can you – "

"You just – "

"OI, SAWADA!" Knuckle bellows, one hand slamming down onto the counter. "WHAT ARE YOU MAKING?"

United as one, all occupants of the room cringe and duck down as the Sun's voice reverberates through their eardrums – with the exception of Ryohei. "Agh," G says.

"No," Lampo whispers dramatically, mortification in his features. "I'm _deaf_."

Tsuna straightens up again as the ringing, throbbing sensation begins to fade. "I'm making sandwiches," he announces in the lull of silence, feeling his exasperation bubble up within him. "I'm making sandwiches with bread fried in butter, consisting of tomatoes, cheese, and lettuce, and if you guys aren't helping me with some aspect of the cooking part, I'm going to have to ask you to _leave."_

Lampo opens his mouth.

He never gets farther than that. The click of Reborn's gun resounds throughout the kitchen. "Mama will be upset if this place gets any messier than it is now," his tutor states – and right now, Tsuna could hug him for taking pity on the situation he's been placed in.

Mukuro opens his mouth, too.

"If you don't leave and you don't help," Tsuna adds, "you aren't getting lunch."

Some of his Guardians spin on their heel and trek out of the room, spirits close behind them. Knuckle, Asari, Yamamoto, and Gokudera stay behind. "Sorry, Jyuudaime," Gokudera mutters, running a hand along the back of his head.

He waves it aside. "Don't worry about it."

Daemon and Giotto rise as well. Tsuna watches as Giotto murmurs something to Daemon – too soft for him to make out, but clearly meaningful enough for Daemon to actually stiffen in place, smile faltering. For a moment, he looks almost speechless.

"You never change," the Mist says at last. The words sound resigned, and full of loathing – along with something else Tsuna can't quite place.

Giotto gives a small laugh. "Nor do you. I happened to be there, you know, when – "

"That incident was because of your absurd sentiments," Daemon says, cutting him off sharply. "Not _mine_. And it has absolutely nothing to do with anything."

His ancestor rises with a smile. He murmurs something else quietly, and then says, "Do you know who that reminds me of? Because I think – "

"Stop there," Daemon orders as he sweeps out of the room, as a graceful as any ghost can be. Tsuna doesn't catch a glimpse of his face, but he sees the undisguised mirth on Giotto's before he takes his leave as well.

Beside him, lounging against the island, Knuckle rolls his eyes. "Giotto's never going to let that one go."

"No, he won't," Asari agrees. He chuckles and shakes his head. "December…sixteenth, wasn't it?"

"Mm-hmm. A fateful day."

"How many times has he brought it up, now?"

The priest returns the laugh. "Too many to count!"

The brunet glances between the two of them, a sense of wonder rising inside him. Gokudera and Yamamoto trade curious looks.

Tsuna has no idea what sort of past event they might be talking about, but he can't help but be in awe – secretly – at how Daemon and Giotto used to be _friends_, and how all of the first generation spirits used to interact like this every day, lively and real and with all sorts of stories to share.

* * *

As aureate sunlight washes over the world, Tsuna walks down the empty hallway. Reborn sits as a comfortable weight on his shoulder. "I can hear you complaining in your thoughts," the tutor says, rapping the side of his student's head. "You wouldn't still have to be here if you didn't leave your textbooks, Dame-Tsuna. Stop being so forgetful."

Tsuna makes a vague grumbling sound. "I missed out on Yamamoto's invite 'cause of this. There's free sushi today."

"Then quit whining and get this over with. You can go there afterwards."

"You're never going to let me mope around like a normal kid, are you?"

Reborn knocks him upside the head. His smirk is positively sadistic. "No."

Tsuna opens his mouth to make a retort he may or may not regret, only to close it again as voices float out of the classroom next to him. The door is closed, but the raised tones carry through it loud and clear. "- give up already!" a girl shouts. "It's not like you're even worth their time! You _loser_!"

He stops walking and glances at Reborn, whose face is synonymous to a stone wall.

"Don't even try out, alright? It's pathetic how obvious you are, and – stop crying, bitch! Stop crying! You think that's gonna make you any less of the piece of shit you are?"

"Aiko-chan – hold on, stop, Aiko-chan!"

A muffled sob escapes the room. Tsuna stares unseeingly at the classroom door, his fists clenching involuntarily at his sides.

"Oi, _what?"_

"Nothing, I just – I think she got the message, is all. Really, we shouldn't stick around."

"What, you wanna go easy on this _thing_? This little shit right here?"

"Of course not, but you have to calm down, Aiko-chan. We need to go before Hibari finds us."

The footsteps from inside grow louder. Swiftly, Tsuna dives for the classroom next door and eases his way into the empty room, careful to keep his movements silent.

He hears another choking sob, this time through the wall. "Ueno-san, p-please stop. Please – "

Paper rips. More than one of them. Five, ten, twenty documents being destroyed at the hands of this one girl.

Someone cries out in anguish. The sound makes Tsuna want to close his eyes and his ears, maybe block out the rest of the world for all of eternity.

"Alright, now we'll go." The cruel voice sweetens into something disgustingly saccharine. "Have a nice weekend, Yuuna-chan. No more chasing around those fucking _pathetic_ author dreams. I've done you a favor, haven't I?"

The door slides open with a small bang, and then closes. Footsteps fall away. Silence reigns, but if Tsuna strains his hearing enough, he can hear quiet hiccups from the other side of the wall.

He takes a few calming breathes, trying to imitate the relaxation technique I-Pin once taught him. It doesn't work as well as he hoped it would. Anger, wild and grand, rages on in his chest.

Reborn stares at him. "What are you going to do, Tsuna?" Leon curls around his infantile hand. "If you don't do something soon, those girls will get away."

Tsuna forces down a bland smile. "Not on my watch," he mutters.

He shoves the door open and runs down the hall. A part of him pulls away, wanting to comfort that girl – Yuuna – after an experience like that (which he's all too familiar with), but he has a more permanent solution to the problem. He races up the stairs, nearly tripping along the way, and heads for the administrative section.

Fortunately, Tsuna doesn't have to bother puzzling where the student council meeting room is. He almost crashes face-first into Hibari at the last turn.

The prefect's displeasure rolls off him in tidal waves. "Herbivore," he snarls.

Normally, Tsuna would've balked at the sight. This time, he can't find it in himself to care. "Who is Ueno Aiko?" he snaps.

Hibari's entire body twitches, instantly recognizing the name. _"What?"_

"Ueno Aiko, that girl Alaude attacked. Before you ask, yes, I saw you two fighting from the rooftop." Tsuna steps forward, his own eyes burning, steel clenched around his heart. "You know, I think I figured out what Alaude's problem is. You want to know what his problem is? Go to room B-3 and look at what Ueno's done. What she's _left behind_." A sense of order washes over him as the pieces fall into place, and he ends up raising his voice at his last words. "And then – you know what? Maybe, _maybe_, you'll figure out who to punish – who the _real_ criminal is!"

He exhales shakily, and brushes past the prefect before his confident mood can slip away from him. A few minutes from now, the brunet will probably be trembling, overwhelmed by his own audacity to yell at Hibari as well as the turmoil of fury and bitterness loosening in his stomach. For now, though, he can still pretend to be the dominant one.

"Where are you going?" Reborn asks as Tsuna strides away.

The teenager bites his lip. "Does…Does Hibari look like he's going to attack me from behind?"

"No. He just left."

"Okay." The following sigh deflates him of half the air in his body. "Okay. I…I'm going to pick up my textbooks, now that that's taken care of. That's…That's what I was doing before, anyway. Hibari-san can deal with that…that girl. I mean, I hope he will."

Reborn taps Tsuna's cheek, a curious glint in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me what all of that was about? Since when did you see Alaude?"

The brunet rubs the back of his neck as they descend the stairs again. His anger has settled into nothing more than an ache in his core. "W-Well, you see, it went like this – "

* * *

Suzuki Seiji is a heavy-set, red-haired boy, with a voice that grates against everyone's ears and a tendency to gravitate toward baseball bats. He's popular with some girls, but not most.

If he was just a little brasher, a little more unruly, Tsuna thinks people would see him as a delinquent. But he _isn't_ a little brasher, and he _isn't_ a little more unruly, and so people just see him as a particularly rebellious young man.

As Tsuna leans idly against the nearby sakura tree, waiting for his friends to meet up with him at the school's entrance as the building starts to empty, he catches a glimpse of Seiji out of the corner of his eye and has to resist the urge to shy away into the shadows.

The red-haired teenager is gathered amongst his friends, talking and laughing and remaining completely oblivious to Tsuna's presence some seven meters away. The brunet watches him for a while, something sour coiling in his stomach and twisting his mouth down.

"Herbivore."

A small yelp escapes him. He whirls around to see the prefect standing nearby, practically unnoticeable beneath the shade. "H-Hibari-san!"

The older teenager glowers at him. "You sent me to deal with a crying herbivore who couldn't pull herself together. I ought to bite you to death."

Tsuna presses against the trunk of the tree. "Uh. Well. Um." He chews on his lip for a moment, not wanting to necessarily _apologize_ but also not knowing where to take the conversation. "So…So what did you do, in the end?"

Hibari snorts, his chilly gaze sweeping past and scattering the people closest to them. "Ueno and her accomplice have been punished accordingly."

He heaves a sigh of relief. "That's…That's good. I-I mean, I hope the problem's solved that way. So, uh, did Alaude show up, or – "

"We fought," comes the curt reply.

Tsuna watches as a small, satisfied smile flits across Hibari's face. "You did? How was it?"

"I lost," says the Cloud, although he doesn't seem to mind the outcome, probably because – "I'll devour him next time."

A flash of red catches Tsuna's attention again. He turns his head for a fraction of a heartbeat, just in time to catch Seiji shoving a small, unnamed boy into the nearby wall. The brunet presses himself harder against the bark of the trunk, a familiar burning sensation forming in his chest.

When he turns back to Hibari, the prefect has his eyes narrowed at him, observing and analyzing in a way that can't possibly be considered normal for any teenager. "Suzuki Seiji," he says. "Who is he?"

Tsuna remembers the way he himself delivered that question before, only with a different name involved. He shrugs and studies the creases in the middle of his palm. "…Just some guy, I guess."

"Herbivore."

The single word of warning makes Tsuna wince. "I…he…" He gestures at the sneering red-head. "I never really knew him, and I barely even see him around anymore, but he was the one who…the one who started spreading it around, during middle school, and it just kind of…stuck. The name, I mean."

Hibari's tone has a bite of impatience to it, as if he's just barely restraining himself from physically wrenching answers out of the brunet. "What name?"

"Dame-Tsuna."

For a moment, the prefect looks genuinely surprised. Then, his face shutters closed again, and they both turn to play witnesses as the smaller boy crumples in on himself, as the crowds standing by avert their eyes from the scene, as Seiji's torrent of words (most likely insults of some kind) strip away every sense of strength from the other student.

Tsuna catches the stony set of his Guardian's mouth. "Hibari…san?"

Hibari sighs silently, aggravation knitting his eyebrows together. "Weak herbivores," he mutters, barely audible. "Torn down by _words_ of all things."

With that, the Cloud pushes off the sakura tree and steps menacingly toward Seiji, tonfas already in his grasp.

Tsuna watches him leave and heads over to meet Gokudera, Yamamoto, and Ryohei on the far end of the courtyard, a tremulous smile spreading across his face.

* * *

It's almost ten in the afternoon when Tsuna leaves the house, clad in only a blazer to ward off the evening chills. The sky is already patterned with pale stars.

He walks back to the park, each breath coming out in white clouds, because Reborn is a sadist who won't let him do anything when it's most convenient. His tutor took one look at him, pointed out the lack of a scarf around his neck – which he was definitely wearing before he left, but the brunet finds he is prone to the curse of forgetfulness – and kicked him right out the door to go recover it.

Lambo and I-Pin fell asleep at seven, but Tsuna still has his suspicions that one of them stole it when his attention was diverted, and that walking back to the park to look for it now will end up as a complete waste of time.

He rounds the corner and bypasses the vending machine, each step crunching against the pavement, until the park comes into view. He freezes.

Daemon's ghostly outline lights up the surroundings better than the streetlights can. The spirit stands in the middle of the park, facing the smaller silhouette of a girl.

Tsuna squints, and his heart skips a beat. It's _Chrome._

His first instinct is to approach them. Daemon tried to hurt Chrome once, tried to threaten her and use her for his own purposes – like she was nothing more than a _tool_ to him, and he wants to leap between them if that's what it takes to keep her from being harmed, but his intuition seems to glue his feet to the sidewalk.

As his mind calms down enough to delve into rational thought, Tsuna notices that neither of them have their weapons out. Chrome seems relaxed, if her posture reflects her emotional state accurately enough. Daemon's mouth moves as he talks to her, his eyes covered by ghostly strands of hair.

Suddenly, Chrome reaches out to cradle the spirit's elbow in her hand.

Almost immediately, Daemon pulls away. He says something else that makes Chrome's eyes widen. She shakes her head, speaks, and her response makes Daemon laugh a little.

For a while that seems like an eternity, they stare at each other.

Then, Daemon mouths a few words, turns away, and disappears in a haze of fire. Chrome stands still until the last of the purple flames die away, before turning around and catching sight of him.

Tsuna waves and jogs over to her. "Chrome!"

"Boss!" The Mist Guardian offers a faint smile. "How long were you standing there?"

He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs under her piercing gaze. "Not…Not long. Sorry, I didn't want to – intrude, or anything."

Her smile widens. "It's okay. You look cold, Boss."

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just here to find my scarf."

Her eyes light up. "I saw one lying on the bench over there." She gestures toward the ribbon of fabric in the distance. "It's probably yours."

The brunet walks over and brushes the leaves off of it. "Thanks, Chrome." He wavers in place. "And, uh – what were you doing here?"

Chrome's violet eyes, startling in their brilliance, blink curiously back at him. "I was taking a walk."

Tsuna knows better than to question Chrome's actions. His friend has always had her quirks, strange and mysterious as they are. Taking a walk near midnight under the stars is the sort of thing she would do. "Did Daemon do anything?" he dares to ask.

She actually giggles. "No. We just talked."

"Are…Are you sure?"

"Don't worry." Chrome smiles serenely at him again, lighter and happier than she usually is. "He didn't hurt me. I doubt he would hurt any one of us anymore, now that he's healing."

Tsuna studies the peaceful glow on her face. "What did he say?" he asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Chrome lifts her face to gaze at the stars, at the vast multitude of lights pinned up on a canvas.

"I have Elena's eyes," she says, and laughs.

* * *

Sometimes, in Tsuna's dreams, he relives his memories.

Most of the time, he replays the battles he's fought and the dangers he's faced. He'll dream of incinerating Byakuran's future version into something less than air, less than ashes. He'll dream of staring into Mukuro's single whirring eye and thinking _no, no, no, not this_, and descending from the sky to find the bloodied bodies of his allies – his friends – lying at Bermuda's feet.

They're not necessarily nightmares. Tsuna wakes up from all of them with a cold sheen of sweat covering his skin, but it doesn't take long for him to calm down.

After all, Mukuro is his Guardian now. Xanxus has come to terms with his heritage and his placement. Byakuran found solace in Yuni. Daemon's spirit rests in peace. And, best of all, the Arcobaleno Curse is broken.

Other times, Tsuna relives the events that aren't quite so stressful – such as taking the good-luck charm from Kyoko's hands, or sitting in the future Vongola's headquarters with Gokudera, or standing as a spectator in front of the Lightning Ring Battle with the Varia (knowing without a doubt that Lambo will take the win).

One night, Tsuna dreams about the Trial of Succession.

It's a fairly short dream. He stands _in open sky, surrounded by swaths of clouds, not a single trace of any land or ocean beneath him. It's as if the 'ground' holding up his feet is just one giant, world-encompassing mirror._

_The light is bright, even though there's no sun. Tsuna stands where he is, unmoving – or maybe just not being able to move – as all the previous Vongola bosses line up in front of him, holding their weapons, the same golden flame burning behind their eyes._

_As always, Tsuna looks at Nono first. The man's face is still kind, but his hair looks to have been bleached white with age, and his skin is spotted with blemishes._

_Then, he looks at Giotto – no, Primo, who stands in the far back with a hand over his heart, blank and without judgment. It strikes him as odd, now, because he's used to seeing his ancestor with feeling, and not being confronted by this completely neutral stance._

_Finally, Tsuna turns to the rest of the Vongola bosses, short and tall and young and old and all carrying the same sins of the past, and he _wakes up to see a blurred sunrise on his wall and the top left corner of the nearby desk.

Tsuna rolls over, smearing his fingers into his bleary eyes, back still sore from the strenuous workout Reborn put him through two days before. He frowns at the ceiling.

All the previous bosses, short and tall. _Young and old._

Vongola Primo, standing in the back.

He wonders why, compared to the other bosses, Giotto seems to look so _young._

* * *

**Endnotes:** so really, where is this going? i have no idea. like, the pieces of plotline i have planned so far is all over the place hahaha but thanks for all the new followers of the story and such, and the wonderful reviews (:

i'm not entirely satisfied with the layout of this chapter (it's all over the place but i'm not sure how to improve it) and this is like 5000 words less than the previous chapter, but anyway, the "plot" is kind of sort of kicking up now. stay tuned pow pow

support is always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings:** violence, language, GEN, after-manga timeline

**Summary:** Not long after Giotto and his Guardians begin to leave their rings and pay daily visits to the material world, Tsuna starts to wonder why they all look so young.

**Author's Note:** ehhh long chapter. long dramatic fight scene and the beginnings of a plot. this fic is actually veering off in a slightly different direction than what i had planned, but i suppose this works out a bit better.

* * *

Tsuna has a question.

It brews inside his mind as time ticks by in hours and days, boiling under a fire fueled by curiosity. It twists his vocal chords every time he opens his mouth, forcing him to swallow it back again, and presses relentlessly against the boundaries of his brain like an ocean trapped in a wine glass.

Tsuna has a question, but he doesn't speak it out loud. He knows the danger of the territory he would be encroaching on if he did.

It's the kind of question people ask their close friends, their brothers and sisters, people with whom trust is a mutual concept. As things are now, Tsuna doesn't know if he has the right to ask, and so his question stays buried under his tongue – even though it's all too easy to be reminded of it.

He is very, very careful not to let it slip.

Right now, Giotto is teaching him simple flame practices again. They're all fairly straight-forward techniques, but after performing them once or twice each day, Tsuna's adequacy over controlling his Sky Flames improves from 'fairly okay' to 'only a little bit harder than breathing'.

He manages to manipulate the fire into a feeble impression of a fish. "You could be an artist," his ancestor comments.

Tsuna rolls his eyes and gets rid of the fish. "How is making animal shapes with my Sky Flames going to help me in battle?" he asks, more bemused than actually irritated.

"Unless you find some way to use it creatively, it won't. It merely exercises your ability to control." Giotto extends a hand and draws a looping infinity symbol out of his own fire. "For instance, one of your techniques – X-Burner, I believe you call it – can still be refined into different variations, which you can master if you continue these practices."

"What do you mean, refined?"

The spirit forms a small column of flames between his hands. "Your X-Burner releases a blast of hard Sky Flames in the direction of your choosing. If you can learn to control your Flames to a higher degree, you may be able to change your attack's properties – such as the width of the beam, the level of hardness of your flames, and the amount of power being put behind it."

Tsuna offers a timid smile. "I've tried lessening the amount of power I put into it before, but it's…it's so much harder than putting all my force into it. It's like trying to push down a volcano, or something. You think it'll get easier if I just get better with my control?"

"Yes, and practice. Diligent practice." Warmth creases his ancestor's face. "It takes many years for the average flame user to exercise complete freedom using his element. However, you would most likely take less time, seeing as you have always demonstrated an exceptional amount of resolve."

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from turning crimson. "I, um…th-thanks. How long did it take you, Giotto-san? To master your Sky Flames?"

"Seven years, perhaps? Although my Guardians would tell you I'm still learning." Giotto chuckles. "G says I'm even worse than he is, yet he's burned down a hotel on accident once."

Tsuna squints at his ancestor. "Why does he say you're worse?"

"I've lit several hotel managers on fire."

The brunet recalls the horror Daemon expressed upon remembering the Vongola's adventures as a vigilante group. A feeling of clarity arises. "Um."

"All were accidents, I assure you."

"_Um."_

Giotto gestures at his predecessor's hands almost hastily. "Anyway, the past shall rest as it is. Why don't you continue?"

Tsuna heaves a long-suffering sigh and tries to make another fish, which he manages to make marginally more fish-like than before.

* * *

Tsuna has a question, and it's eating him from the inside out. Eventually, it comes bursting from him, like waves clawing against the shores at high tide, like a lion bursting from his mouth in claws and flashing teeth, demanding to be heard.

They're in the living room when it happens.

"So, Tsuna, aren't you going to give them any hints?" asks Asari.

The teenager glances up from his hands, refocusing on the present. His gaze slides past his tutor and over to the gathering of spirits on the other side of the room. "I thought they said they didn't want my help."

"Damn right we don't," G tosses over his shoulder as he kneels beside the television.

Next to Tsuna, Asari reclines against the couch, his smile holding faint traces of weariness. "Not even a small clue? You look like you might need the assistance."

"I don't think their pride will allow it," Giotto comments on Tsuna's other side. He makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. "Behold – my Guardians. Humility personified."

"You're hardly one to talk," Daemon says, speaking up for the first time in the past half-hour. The Mist spirit has found an acceptable niche against the wall, an occasional smirk surfacing as he reads through Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ – that book being possibly the only reason he hasn't washed his hands of them and the domesticity of the situation just yet.

"I second Daemon," Lampo mutters, curled in a fetal position on the floor (the couch, to his expressive dismay, is already occupied).

Knuckle leans up and stretches, his back crackling from the strain. He gives each of them a stern glare. "You could always help out, you know!" Thankfully, Lambo sleeps in the bedroom nearby, preventing the Sun spirit from raising his voice any higher.

Tsuna resists the whim to plant his head in his hands for a full five seconds before giving in. "I know you guys lived a long time ago and you don't know a lot about technology," he half-says, half-groans, "but is it really that hard to figure out a _television_?"

The glare G levels at him holds promises of fire and brimstone.

"Ah, apparently so." Asari pats the brunet lightly on the shoulder. "By the way, Knuckle – just how long do you plan on holding Alaude hostage?"

"Literally?" their boss adds.

Knuckle blinks rapidly a few times, as if he's completely forgotten about the death grip he has been maintaining on Alaude's arm. He scowls at the Cloud Guardian, completely immune to the glower he receives in return. "Well, I'm not letting him go until he starts helping."

If G promises fire and brimstone, Alaude promises a thousand lifetimes of icy hell upon anyone who meets his gaze. "_No_," the Cloud snarls.

The priest throws up his hands, taking Alaude's arm along with him. "It'll take more than two people to solve this, you know!"

"Right now, I feel like I'm the only one doing anything useful around here. Knuckle, get down here and help me find the right button to press. Why the hell are there so many of them?"

"It's the VCR," Tsuna breathes into his hands. "The VCR button. The biggest one. Why won't they _listen_?"

Asari pats him again. It does little to make him feel better.

"Hey, Giotto, if you're not going to come over here and work this out, go back into your ring." The Storm gives his friend a narrow-eyed scowl. "You've been out here too long. Don't blame me if you crash for a few months."

Tsuna peers at the man as well. It took him a while to learn – or discover – that the first generation spirits have limitations when it comes to materialization. According to Giotto, appearing in the physical world takes _energy_, which can be quickly depleted if they linger for long periods of time outside of their rings. At one point, his ancestor disappeared without a trace for a whole month before gathering enough energy to return and give him that explanation.

Giotto waves away the concern with a fluttering hand. "I know my limits, G. I'm alright. Keep looking for the right button."

"We're rooting for you," Lampo yawns, voice muffled by the floor.

"Oh, Daemon!" To Tsuna's utter disbelief, Knuckle uses Alaude's arm to wave at the Mist spirit. "You're the sharpest of our lot. Why don't you find this 'VCR button' for us?"

Silently, Daemon flips a page, determinedly ignoring his surroundings.

"Hey, who says he's the 'sharpest'?"

"He did split his soul," the priest points out. Literally, he proceeds to curl the Cloud Guardian's hand into a pointing finger and aims it between G's furrowed eyebrows. "It's not like any of us can pull that off."

Out of nowhere, the _question_ slips into Tsuna's mouth. He swallows it back down.

"Do I look like a Mist user to you?!"

Tsuna wonders how long it will be until Alaude snaps and murders Knuckle using the most gruesome disciplinary methods imaginable. Then, he wonders how Knuckle even managed to get Alaude inside his house. Despite the fact that his arm seems to have been taken prisoner, it's not like the Cloud spirit can't free himself and disappear if he so chooses.

Abruptly, G stands up and brushes off his pants. "That's it. I give up. Who invented this television thing, anyway? We should go back in time and hang him."

"Or her," Asari adds. "It could have been a woman. Times have certainly changed over the past decades."

Again – he bites his lip, the question ravaging his mind. The brunet can't help but realize that now is the perfect time to ask, when all of the first generation spirits are in the same room.

"Tsuna?"

His ancestor arches an eyebrow at him, ignoring the words being thrown back and forth between his Guardians. "Is something the matter?"

Tsuna's gaze skitters across the room. "I – uh, no. Not really."

"I can sense that your thoughts have been a bit preoccupied, lately," Giotto adds, clearly not about to let this slide. "It's been distracting you."

"Oh." He flushes and studies his feet. "Well…I kind of…have a question."

Oh, _wait_, he shouldn't have said that.

"Which is?"

_Damn_, he thinks as Asari prods him. The Rain spirit's attention doesn't falter. _Damn, damn, damn._

"It's…kind of personal?" the teenager tries.

Giotto smiles slightly, and with a hint of fondness. "I doubt that would be any cause for embarrassment. Go on."

Tsuna takes a deep breath and feels the question rising to his lips. He ignores the shouting match that has erupted between the other spirits and lets the question tumble into the air head-first, heavy as a tsunami wave, leaving him light-headed and anxious. It's such a bad idea, he _knows_ that, but he can't resist anymore.

"How did you die?" he asks.

The world skids to a halt.

Silence bears down on them in a vengeance. Tsuna thinks he might be able to hear a dust particle drop to the floor.

His ancestor has stopped smiling. Asari may as well be carved out of marble. Their faces are spotless sheets of paper.

Lampo stares at the brunet with wide, shocked eyes. Daemon has glanced up from his book. Knuckle is quiet, Alaude's anger seems to have dropped entirely, and every inch of G's body has tensed up with some sort of illogical apprehension.

Tsuna has enough regrets to compile a list longer than the world's prime meridian. After seeing their reactions, 'asking the question' has jumped to the top of that metaphorical list. He didn't even know the other Guardians would be able to hear him.

As the silence stretches past the point of being bearable, Tsuna decides that it really can't get any worse than this. "I-I'm only asking," he starts to say, fidgeting in place, "because I noticed that…th-that during the Trial of Succession, all the previous bosses were there. Nono was…he was there, too, in the future, since he…um, died. Besides being ten years older, he looked the same as I, um, remembered him to be, and then I looked at the person before him – Vongola Ottavo – and she looked like she was, uh…maybe in her thirties? Forties?"

Still, no spirit says anything. The tension is clinging to his nerves.

"So I noticed that all of the bosses…during the Trial, they all – they all had different ages. I-I mean, they weren't all the same age. And I…I kind of assumed, you know, that they appeared as the same age as when they – when they died." Tsuna forces himself to swallow. "And then I realized that…out of all the bosses, Giotto-san, you – you looked…the youngest."

His ancestor doesn't react in the slightest.

"And…you guys all kind of look the same age," the brunet practically squeaks. "So I was just…wondering."

The scraping sound of paper finally cuts through the pressure of the room. "I suppose you were destined to ask that question eventually," Daemon says as he closes the book, his lips curved. "Sawada Tsunayoshi. Always one to make waves, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Daemon," G grunts, although some of the harsh lines in his shoulders ease somewhat. "Anyway, Giotto shouldn't have been the youngest. Youngest boss to die was Ricardo."

"No, Ricardo lived to twenty-nine." Asari taps his fingers against his knee. "We were a just few years younger, I believe, with the exception of Lampo."

Lampo props himself up on his elbows. "Mm…yeah, I'm – I was eighteen. Or nineteen. Somewhere around there." His gaze seems to linger on something beyond their senses. "I'm not even the youngest out of the Lightning Guardians. You know Marcello, the Quinto's Guardian? That kid got dumped into our ring when he was _twelve_."

Silence has its second reign over them. Tsuna curls one of his hands into a fist, wishing he asked this in private or perhaps forgotten about it altogether.

Surprisingly, Alaude is the one to answer him. "It was a series of assassinations," he explains coldly, startling the teenager out of his skin, "organized and executed by allied enemy famiglie. They were most likely meant to intimidate the Secondo into submission by proving themselves capable enough to kill the Vongola's founding members."

His mouth drops. "A-And you guys…You all…At the same time?"

The Cloud spirit tilts his head ever-so-slightly, his tone dead and emotionless. "They knew not to underestimate us. They killed us before we could spread information among ourselves quickly enough to prevent more deaths." He glances at Daemon. "Shortly after we fell, the enemies were destroyed under the Secondo's command."

His last sentence doesn't sound like a question, but the Mist Guardian still nods, as if in affirmation.

Tsuna pulls his feet up onto the couch. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. He can't stand the barren looks on their faces. "I shouldn't have…I really shouldn't have – "

Giotto's face finally softens into a semblance of his usual self. "As Daemon said, you were bound to be curious about it eventually. It's only surprising…because you are the first of Vongola's successors to ask us such a thing."

Tsuna looks at his ancestor, who gazes back, an entire lifetime lingering in his eyes – eyes that have suddenly turned a burnished amber, hardened by more than just the flatness of the recessed ceiling lights.

Another question slips out of him, spoken as if he's a little kid again, a child frightened of bullies and bad grades and never even imagining that one day he might join the mafia and be forced to kill a man, and it's too late for him to reel those juvenile words back in again: "What's it like? Dying?"

A part of him expects a simple, predictable answer. He expects his ancestor to tell him it's like falling asleep, or like being _real _one moment and being _nothing_ the next, or like reaching out to a pinpoint of light in a tunnel of darkness.

Instead, Giotto recoils as if he's been struck in the chest. His expression flits between emotions, torn between heart-wrenching fury and desolation (and perhaps a glimmer of something Tsuna can't bring himself to identify as _terror_) as he focuses on a scene far beyond anyone's reach. In the corner of his eye, the brunet sees Lampo stare at his boss with something very much like fear.

"It was hell," Giotto murmurs.

One moment, everything is still. Then, the entire room lights up with fire as the spirits burst into their respective flames, splashing the surfaces with seven different colors as they return to their rings.

Soon, Tsuna knows why. The sound of the front door swinging open reaches his ears. "Tsu-kun! We're home!" his mom calls.

Tsuna gets to his feet, forcing his hands not to tremble. He runs them through his hair and bites his lip hard enough to puncture it.

Reborn wanders into the room, takes a half-second to notice the leftover tension in the atmosphere, and pins Tsuna down with a well-practiced look. "What happened?"

He just shakes his head. "Where were you?"

"…Checking on some suspicious figures. The Folletto Famiglia are in town. It looks like they're just here for a clean job, but there's been some trouble stirring on Nono's side." His tutor tilts his fedora up for a clearer view. "Now, what happened?"

The teenager ducks his head in an angry, jerky motion. "I…I screwed up. All of the first generation was here. I…I asked them how they died."

Reborn's eyebrows shoot skyward. "You screwed up," he says, although he phrases it in a way that kind of sounds like a demand for answers.

"Yeah, 'cause…they didn't take it well." Which is, he thinks frustratingly, the understatement of the century. "Giotto-san said I'm the only successor to ask something like that, so they were all kind of shocked. And then I just _had_ to go ask him what dying was like, and that was…that was…I mean, you should've seen the look on his face. It was _terrible."_

"He reacted that strongly?" Reborn gives a slight, speculative frown. "Interesting."

"What do you mean, 'interesting'? How else should he have reacted?"

As always, the hitman smirks and toddles away, evidently still content with leaving Tsuna to his own devices. "Think about it, Dame-Tsuna."

Tsuna watches Reborn exit the room, then groans and strangles the open air.

* * *

The cool breeze ruffles through his shirt and hair, whipping away the unbearable heat that plagued him during his training sessions. Feet planted in the grass, Tsuna throws a towel across his neck and sighs, sitting wearily on the steps of the backyard porch.

None of the spirits have appeared to him for the past two weeks.

Normally, this would be fine. Some weeks go by without a single trace of them. But after asking that question, Tsuna feels his anxiety gnaw away inside him, a mix of regret and self-deprecation and an aching hope that he hasn't ruined the trust between him and Giotto forever.

He does his best to toss out the darker thoughts and stares idly at the swaying trees, leaves dancing to the melody of birdsong.

"Tsunayoshi?"

Asari's voice makes his body twist around. The spirit hovers in the doorway behind him with the usual imperial air. The faint smile on his face banishes some of Tsuna's unease. "May I join you?"

Dumbly, he nods. His trepidation spikes along with his heartbeat.

Asari lowers himself onto the porch next to the teenager, graceful as flowing water.

"I'm sorry," Tsuna finds himself saying. "I'm really, really sorry, I didn't – I never meant to – " He fumbles for eloquence. "I'm _sorry_."

A small laugh comes in response. "You've done nothing wrong. The others can hardly blame you for your own curiosity."

The brunet presses his knuckles against the wooden planks that seat them. "But I was just…really out of line. And then…_Giotto-san_, he…"

"Relax," Asari advises him. "Your guilt will do you nothing but harm, in this case."

Tsuna takes a deep breath and lets the muscles in his arm unwind, leaving him shaky and boneless.

The spirit places a gentle hand against his back. "That's better. We hold no ill will against you. You just gave us a bit of a surprise – particularly your own ancestor." Asari closes his eyes for a moment. "You must understand, Tsunayoshi, that there are very few of us who have fully come to terms with the way that we left."

Left, meaning died. "And _you've_ come to terms with it?"

The hand against his back falls away. "I like to think so, yes. Daemon is no longer bothered by the mention of it, as well. The others have yet to…" He makes a careless motion at the air around them. "Well, they have yet to discover the same peace."

Reborn's words flash in Tsuna's mind. "I guess I just thought it would be okay," he says tentatively, a new thought worming its way in. "I thought, after all this time, he wouldn't have reacted like…I mean, I didn't think dying was so _traumatic_. After all, it's been so long since you guys were alive, so I thought…"

_I thought he would have moved on by now_, he doesn't say, and yet it hangs in the air as obvious as the scent of a forest fire.

Asari gives him a long look that can't quite be interpreted. It eventually breaks into another smile, although the set of eyes paired with it are too thoughtful. "Yes, one would think so. A pity, how the concept of 'moving on' was never mentioned to them before."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Forgive me. I meant nothing of it." With a small shake of his head, the spirit composes his features into something lighter, and chuckles. The sound has a teasing lilt to it. "Now that I am here, are there any other questions on your mind, Tsunayoshi?"

He rubs the back of his head. "Actually, yeah. Just one more."

"Please, speak freely."

"What's it like, being in the rings?"

"Ah. Well." Asari hums, gazing at the few crows perched on the fence. "The best way I could describe it is 'unity'."

Tsuna takes the towel off his neck and folds it distractedly in his lap. "Unity?"

"Yes. We are fragments of our wills, fragments of time, merged with the ring due to the Axis phenomenon. As such, the ring is our anchor to this world – our home, you could say. The 'space' inside the ring where we are 'contained' has no boundaries. It is merely a place in which we exist, and we are…united with ourselves."

"But what's it like, to exist there?"

The spirit chuckles amicably. "Perhaps you wouldn't understand. There is nothing to describe. There are no true actions that you might perform in the material world. We exist. We do not breathe, nor talk, nor hear, nor think. Any of those actions requires energy, and energy is something that is limited to us."

"So you just do nothing?"

"No, we do something. We exist. We simply…be."

Tsuna realizes he has leaned in too much and pulls himself back. His mind flips the concept over and over, trying to grasp the complexities of it. "Is it…nice, to just exist like that?"

"Nice is not how I would describe it. It is simply a way of being. Neither pleasant nor unpleasant."

He tries to imagine himself like that – kept in an infinite space of energy, not breathing, not living, but not necessarily being nothing. "I still don't understand," he admits.

Asari looks faintly amused. He starts to reply, only to be cut off by a new voice.

"Probably 'cause your explanations tend to suck, Asari."

They both crane their heads around to look at the new arrival – G, who leans against the back door, hands shoved in his pockets. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. Listen – you guys all know the rings keep the hours of our lifetime contained." His eyes are trained on Tsuna. "That girl, Yuni, explained as much when you were hanging around in the future. But we're more than just fragments of time – we're obviously sentient, just without a physical form. The rings converted us into – not souls, but beings made up of Dying Will Flames."

He gestures at the sky. "Now, when we died, the…majority of ourselves moved on to the afterlife, or wherever the hell people are supposed to go when they die." A faint scowl crosses his face. "But a fraction of us – in other words, a part of our will – stayed behind to go with the rings. That's us."

"We are, quite literally, fragments of our own Dying Wills," Asari says, picking up the explanation. "You could say that we are the part of ourselves that had the will to stay in the world of the living."

"So when we stay in the rings, we're existing as the purest forms of Dying Will energy. The rings have always been able to channel and contain that energy, and they also satisfy our wills. In other words, we feel right at home, and that's not a bad feeling," the Storm spirit finishes.

Tsuna reels from the influx of information. Somehow, all of it seems surreal.

"Get it now?" G asks dryly.

He manages to nod, although his mind still whirls as it processes things. "But…does that work? Are you okay like this? Are you guys…fine with what you are?"

Asari smiles back, plainly and simple. "I believe so."

G gives Tsuna a nod, curt and not unkind, before the two spirits burst into flames and return to their pocket of existence. Tsuna doesn't even have the mind to bid them a last goodbye.

He stares at the sunlit yard for a long time, thinking back to the bleakness on Giotto's face, and wonders if his ancestor is fine with what he is, too.

* * *

One lesson Tsuna and his Guardians learn about the first generation is this: Lampo's kingdom is the couch, and he'll takes sleepless naps in thirty-minute intervals. A second lesson: Lampo never awakens from his naps voluntarily.

Tsuna's Hyper Intuition, which makes shivers run down the length of his spine and restlessness appear in discomforting itches and tangles, tells him to be wary. He keeps his eye on the cards though, firmly rooted in reality as he and his friends play a round of chaotic Go Fish. The sound of his mother singing in the background soothes his nerves a little.

His intuition has never been wrong before. He struggles to focus on the cards in his hand even as his other senses tingle from an impending threat. The problem with this kind of premonition is that he can never be sure exactly how he should prepare for it.

"Damn it!" Gokudera hisses as he reluctantly slides three aces in Chrome's direction. The other teen welcomes them into her own deck with a smile and a touch of underlying mischievousness.

Tsuna would have smiled, too, if his attention hadn't been caught by the shuffle of movement in the background.

Lampo pushes himself into a sitting position, every fiber in his shirt crinkled, not a single hair still in place. The brunet can't help but frown – after all, the Lightning spirit has only been resting for fifteen minutes now. "Sorry, Lampo-san. Did we wake – "

The last word dies in his throat as Lampo's gaze skitters across the walls, unnaturally solemn. Rather than slouching in his usual sluggish pose, his body posture has straightened. Sharply, he stares through the nearest windows, before alert blue orbs swivel around to observe the ceiling around the living room door.

Alarm bells go off in Tsuna's head. "Lampo-san?" he repeats, smoothly shifting into a crouch. Around him, his Guardians also quiet, sensing the tautness of the air around them.

The spirit finally looks at Tsuna, a troubled tone in his voice. "Get ready."

With that, the figure on the couch bursts into tendrils of lightning and leaves them to whatever danger they might have to face.

The brunet leaps to his feet and reaches down to tap the Sky ring. It twists around his finger like amber lava; a chain snaps across his knuckles to connect the two bands, forming the X-Version Ring. A quick glance to his sides confirms that his friends have done the same to their own rings.

They form a circle in the middle of the room, facing outward. Yamamoto and Ryohei brush shoulders with him. Tsuna takes comfort from the contact and narrows his eyes, preparing himself for anything and everything that could possibly come their way.

They've had assassination attempts against his house before, all of which ended in ludicrous ways, but none of them have given him the same feeling he has now. The energy around him practically vibrates, waves of hot and cold pattering his skin like rainfall. The inside of his mouth is dry and rough, painful when he swallows.

Five seconds tick past, and then –

Abruptly, his mom stops singing.

Fear slides down his throat, strangling him from the inside out. He flies across the floor and tears into the kitchen, a mantra of _no, no, no_ looping through his head.

His mom lies limp against the floor. He never even heard her collapse.

In the window next to the sink, the glass panel has been removed entirely. An intruder dressed entirely in black – wearing a thick overcoat, a hood, and a scarf tied around his mouth and nose – crouches lightly against the sill.

Wordlessly, Gokudera lunges at him. The attacker dodges and disappears onto the rooftop. His Storm Guardian doesn't hesitate – he leaps through the open window to pursue them.

Tsuna crouches next to his mom and notices her sides rising and falling evenly. Relief crashes down on him, followed closely by regret. He should have warned her while he had the chance.

The pattering of feet makes him look up. Reborn crosses the window and joins him on the floor.

There's no time to ask his tutor where he's been. "Reborn, Mom was – "

"I know. You've got multiple enemies." The infant presses a hand against the brunette's throat, gears whirring behind his dark eyes. "She's just unconscious. I'll get her someplace safe – you need to fight."

Belatedly, Tsuna realizes that Gokudera was the only one of his Guardians to follow him into the kitchen. The sound of shattering ceramic echoes from across the hall. He clamps down on his own adrenaline. "Do you know who's attacking us?"

"No, but you're going to find out."

Reborn points his gun at Tsuna's forehead and shoots.

He falls backward, darkness enclosing his vision for less than a millisecond. Voices run rampant through his head in a familiar pattern – _you really should have warned me, quit blaming yourself, don't be so clueless _– before everything blinks out, like the wink of a television screen after pressing the power button.

For a moment, Tsuna is dead.

Then, Tsuna is alive.

He surges to his feet, warmth swarming across his forehead in a blaze of fire. In Hyper Dying Will Mode, his emotions fall into their appropriate positions, a sense of calmness spreading throughout his being as if carried by his own bloodstream.

He almost tells Reborn that he could have ingested two Dying Will Pills by himself instead of going through those rebukes all over again, only to realize that there isn't time for comments like that, either. "Take Lambo with you, too," he says instead, "and I-Pin and Fuuta. Where's Bianchi?"

"Not here. You know, that cow can still fight using the bazooka."

"I know, but I've got a bad feeling this time. It's too risky."

Another crash bounces down the hall. Tsuna runs toward the commotion.

Yamamoto's body skids out of the doorway and slams into the nearby wall. In a flash, moving almost entirely on instinct, Tsuna sidles between his friend and the enemy. His hands throb with heat as he crosses them in front of his face, each finger tingling with the sensation of tight fabric and cool, polished metal.

He doesn't even get a glimpse of the shadowy silhouette bearing down on them. A gleaming knife swings down in a silver arc, cutting through the grey light of the hall at an incredible speed.

It clashes against the metallic mold of his gloves with a deafening ring. Tsuna twists his hands, trying to trap the blade in the niches of his gloves, but it pulls away in a hiss of steel and sharpness.

The brunet doesn't waste time. He lashes forward with one leg – the world tilts, and Flames explode in a gaping maw around his foot. His retaliation meets empty air, but he senses their attacker dance back a few steps, knife swinging out of sight.

"Thanks," Yamamoto gasps behind him. Tsuna just nods, looking his friend over quickly and finding no major injuries.

He turns back to the shadow.

Clad in a sweater and dark jeans, hoodie tugged over their (his? her?) face and scarf across their mouth, the figure is just as mysterious as the one engaging Gokudera on the rooftop. Glittering green observes him from a distance, but the cowl of their hood prevents the brunet from reading them clearly.

"Who are you?" he asks as his Rain Guardian steps to his side.

The blur of a spinning dagger heads straight for his face.

In an instant, the long katana of Yamamoto's Cambio Forma flashes forward. The dagger hits the blue flames as if coming in contact with a steel wall. It falls to the floor with a harmless, yet deafening clatter.

Tsuna's focus never strays from their opponent. "You released Kojiro already?" he asks Yamamoto incredulously.

His friend's laughter sounds sheepish. "Ah, I kind of left Shigure Kintoki at home." His voice lowers into barely a murmur, quieter than the ripples of a lake. "I already asked this guy who they are and why they're attacking us. They're not replying to anything. There's at least three other guys fighting Sasagawa-senpai and Chrome–"

Another dagger cuts them off. They dive in opposite directions as the blade lodges itself into the wall – just in time, too, as the shadowy figure lunges forward to follow up with a punch. They pull back their fist, leaving inky cracks in the plaster.

Tsuna grits his teeth and goes for the first move. The air whistles past his cheeks as he tries to throw a punch – and as the enemy moves to dodge, twists his wrist around and lets Sky Flames explode from each of his fingers. Golden whips lash out against their ribs.

They spin away, not entirely unscathed if the charred side of their clothes is any indication of it. A longer knife with a hooked tip slips into their grasp and slices the space between them.

He ducks just in time. Strands of his own hair float like dust in the dim window light. A spot of color catches his eye – bright yellow tinting the edge of the blade.

His inner alarm goes wild.

"Poison!" he shouts as he deflects the next swing with his gloves. Behind the attacker, he catches the fleeting image of Yamamoto's stern frown, pinched in concentration.

A second later, the Rain Guardian's sword sweeps forward in one long, horizontal line, leaving a searing blue mark in the figure's back. Tsuna watches them stagger forward and thrusts forward his own hands, striking them mercilessly in the chest.

Only for the enemy to disappear in an invisible haze and fade out of existence.

There is no warning. Tsuna almost believes his eyesight is failing him. Yamamoto stares at the spot where their opponent used to be, and then spins around, searching the darkened hallway for movement.

Tsuna reaches a hand out and touches nothing but empty space. He rubs one of his temples. _"What?"_

"I can't sense them," Yamamoto mutters. "Their vibrations are completely gone. What just–"

They spin around in unison as another shadow – no, Chrome – bursts out of the spare guest room, her feet sliding the hardwood floor. She holds her trident in a bleached grip. "Boss!"

They rush to meet her. Tsuna feels his gut unclench at the sight of her, pale yet still unwounded. "Chrome, there's – "

The Mist Guardian cuts him off. "Our enemies are gone. Senpai's searching the other room, but they seem to have vanished entirely." Her single eye has a dangerous sheen to it. "We wounded them, and a second later, they disappeared into thin air."

Yamamoto looks grim. "We saw the same thing. Tsuna had them cornered, and then…"

She frowns. "I considered teleportation, but those weren't Night Flames. That ability might not even be Flame-based."

"That's true. Our enemy didn't use Flames at all when we attacked them."

"Did they say anything to you?" Tsuna asks her. "We asked a couple questions, but we didn't get a response."

"Not, Boss. We couldn't get them to talk. Senpai tried pulling off one of their scarves, but he – he got injured for it. They don't want us to know their identities." Her head tilts, loose hair spilling over one side. "Listen."

The brunet obeys, spreading his awareness toward all corners of the house. The distant roaring sound from above, coupled with the faint traces of dust still falling from the ceiling, make the hairs along the back of his neck rise.

"That's coming from the rooftop," he breathes. "Gokudera-kun's still fighting."

Chrome stiffens in place. "There's too much noise. We're stronger than them – they've tested that already. If their ability allows them to reappear in a different place–"

Yamamoto's face bleeds a pint of color as he comes to the same realization. "Regroup and change strategy – it's logical. If they can reappear in a different place, take us by surprise–" Horror dawns on them. "–and gang up on Hayato, then–"

Tsuna bites his fingers into his palm, turns at his heel, and runs. He slams the front door open with a force equivalent to the shifting of tectonic plates. The cold wind runs its teeth along the tip of his nose, and he barely pauses to glance at the row of plain houses on the other side of the street, stark-white against a monochrome sky.

Flames pour out of his hands, and he's flying.

The hem of his shirt billows out in front of him. He shoots upward faster than a rocket, hurtles past his bedroom window – the glass panel of that, too, has been removed – and slows his ascent just long enough to see his friend cornered at the edge of the roof tiles.

Four of the anonymous figures surround him, with one hanging back in solitude. One of the four raises his hand, clenching a simple black gun pointing straight at the boy.

Tsuna doesn't have time to think.

He grabs Gokudera by the collar of his shirt and pulls him backward. At the same time, the fire being expelled beneath him extinguishes.

A gunshot resounds.

They free-fall.

Tsuna gathers up all of his strength in the soles of his feet and pushes _down_, flames exploding from his heels, desperately rebelling against the force of gravity. He hits the cemented path beyond the porch and stumbles, his knees jarring.

Before he can frantically check the state of his friend, Gokudera staggers to his feet, rubbing the area around his neck. Shock, combined with worry, blooms across his face. "Jyuudaime! Are you alright?"

He almost huffs a laugh, since – "That's what I should be asking you."

"I-I'm fine, the bullet missed, but Jyuudaime–"

They spare a moment to glance back up. The screech of metal could be coming from Chrome's trident, or maybe one of the enemy's weapons. "Get back!" Ryohei's voice calls from farther away, though not directed towards either of them.

Gokudera makes an agitated movement with his hands, regaining Tsuna's attention. The Storm Guardian has an ugly bruise next to the corner of his mouth, and a scarlet scratch running from hairline to temple. "Jyuudaime, I–" He lowers his head, eyebrows lowered, lips curling with an emotion that surpasses wrath. "They took _Uri_ – _they took my ring!_"

Tsuna's thought process derails. His gaze flickers down disbelievingly to Gokudera's belt.

The buckle, the X-Version of the Storm Ring, is gone.

"There was something lining their blades," the silver-haired teen continues. "It was a – a paralyzing agent, and when they all came at me at once – it wore off quickly enough, but I couldn't move, and they – they _took it_. Uri tried to attack them, but those bastards wouldn't stay in one place."

"They took the ring." Tsuna blocks out the sounds of the fighting and tries to concentrate, narrating his thoughts out loud for the sake of his friend. "They took your weapon before they tried to kill you." And that means – "That's their primary objective, taking our rings. Killing us takes only second priority."

Gokudera nods. The brunet watches his Guardian slip seamlessly into the position of his right-hand man. "They have a leader. One of them stands back and lets the others rush in, but he – or she – never says anything. They've got some sort of strategy that doesn't involve actual communication. Two of them use knives, one's a close combat fighter, one of them has a gun, and the last one…I don't know, they haven't lifted a finger yet."

"Your Guardians are outnumbered, Dame-Tsuna."

Tsuna turns toward Reborn's voice. His tutor strides across the lawn, his gait as commanding as it can be for a three-year-old. "Reborn, are Mom and–"

"They're all safe for now." He gestures at the roof with his gun. "It's five against three right now. Hurry up, or your Guardians will be in trouble. Your enemies aren't wasting time with anything, and you can't let them keep that ring. Go finish this up."

The brunet nods and takes to the air again.

Gokudera lifts a hand to brush back his hair, which blows behind him from the winds whipping around Tsuna's feet. His entire face has gained a sunken look to it. "I'm sorry, Jyuudaime."

"I'll get it back," Tsuna promises, and turns skyward.

He manages to intercept a blow to Chrome's backside a split-second before it connects. His chosen opponent, same as the one before, doesn't falter as they slice path inches away from his shoulders.

He doesn't hold back this time.

The Primo's gauntlet locks into place around his fist, melting into existence from explosion of fire. Taking two steps forward, the brunet compacts his energy into his arm, feeling power surge through his muscles and lash across his skin.

The next knife swipes across faster. He feels cut into his shirt – not his skin, fortunately – and hurtles forward, closing the distance between them. His free elbow knocks against the figure's ribcage, and his gauntlet thrusts forward.

_Mitena di Vongola Primo._

He strikes out, the gauntlet sinking into his enemy's sweater. It pushes deeper and deeper until touching bare skin and flesh and then stabbing through _that_ easier than paper. His entire arm is blazing with snarling flames, a sphere of heat and light – a reflection of the sun itself.

Liquid fire flows through his limbs. Tsuna can feel the smothering pressure of a falling sky as he tries to lift it, the soaring of his heart and lungs and breath as he rises above it. The ball of fire expands in front of him, and as always, the brush of power at his senses tricks him into believing that these flames are alive, sentient and god-like, and that the small sun he's created is a replica of the planet from which they came. His flames are living and devouring them all alive, and lions are roaring in his ears.

Tsuna takes it, all of it – the lions, the flickering creatures that can't possibly be called flames, the searing heat in his lungs – and pushes it forward.

_Burning Axle._

A light shines, gold and blinding.

And then the figure in black is spiraling away, limp and quite possibly dead, plumes of smoking lifting away from them. And Tsuna feels the weight of the Sky drain from his body, and he's left with the feeling of being enormous and miniscule all at once.

"Tsuna!" someone – Ryohei – screams at him. "Behind you! _Behind you!_"

He turns, calmly, with the warmth of a dragon in his chest, just in time to see another figure leaping at him.

His new opponent is significantly slower than the others. Their body is slender, with less of the compacted strength he would expect in an assassin. Ducking down, the brunet thrusts his palms out, hitting them straight in the chest – only for them distort in an invisible wave and disappear from view.

He casts a quick glance at the others and confirms his suspicions. The person who just attacked him was the supposed leader of the group, the one who wasn't partaking in the fights before.

They might not even be the leader. They might just be the weakest of the group, ordered to stay back and fight only when necessary–

_But why would they come at all_, he thinks, _if they'd be nothing more than a burden?_

"Boss!"

Chrome leaps toward him, her trident spinning in a whirlwind of steel and deflected blades. "Boss, they're regenerating."

Tsuna frowns, because, well. "_What?"_

"I wounded this one's eyes and damaged their clothes." She nods at her attacker as she easily blocks their projectiles. "They disappeared, and when they came back, it's like all my work was erased. Yamamoto-kun and Senpai are having the same problem."

His mind hurtles off in another direction.

In other words, the person he burned isn't defeated yet.

His focus skitters over the rooftop, trying to think, trying to plan. "Alright. They're after our rings, so let's draw them away from the house and go all out. Maybe there's a limit to the wounds they can recover from."

"Yes, Boss."

He ignites his hands again and takes off, rising higher and higher until his house is vague square below him. He can see Chrome disappear in a murder of crows – a technique probably learned from her counterpart – and Yamamoto and Ryohei leap off the roof as well, quickly catching onto their plan. The brunet watches the figures pursue them as he hovers next to a lamppost.

Tsuna glances around him. The weaker one and the one he tried to kill are nowhere to be found.

A blur of movement has him whipping around. The shadow balancing on the lamppost lashes out, missing him by the breadth of his own skin. They dissipate just as swiftly.

Carefully, Tsuna moves away from the post. "You guys can't reach me, can you?" he asks, mainly to himself.

The air above his head warps into the silhouette of the weaker figure as they bear down on him from above. "Just kidding," the brunet mutters as he glides away, shoving them into empty air. They vanish before the momentum can send them plummeting.

A second later, a bullet whizzes past his ears. He dives into the nearby park – thankfully empty – and lands in a crouch. His heart pounds a dizzying rhythm in all staccatos.

His two opponents land on either side of him. One of them has a gun in their hand. The other keeps their knives. The poison on those blades, Tsuna thinks, are a problem. He shifts into a fighting position and prepares for their first move.

Above them, the sky erupts.

Massive crows pull a blanket of darkness overhead before forming a funnel-like tornado, careening toward the ground. Thousands of ashen bodies slam against the ground in a flurry of dark wings and finely-coated feathers. The sound is akin to the pounding of a waterfall, only with snapping beaks and bodies.

Each bird winks out of existence a moment after it hits the ground. As the sudden nightfall begins to clear, a teenager rises from the massive murder (literally) of crows.

One eye is ink and blood. The other is deep sea and oceantide. A single, bladed earring dangles next to his jaw line.

Tsuna glances at his new partner. "Mukuro?"

His other Mist Guardian tilts his head back, surveying the scene with a warm smile. "My dear Chrome called for me." He chuckles from deep within his throat. "It looks like she was right. You've gotten yourself into quite a bind, haven't you?"

He shoves down the urge to protest – he didn't _get himself_ into anything. "Did she fill you in?"

Mukuro presses nimble fingers against his forehead, manipulating the mind link between him and his counterpart. "Five enemies, not quite teleportation, regeneration, unknown abilities – my, my. You _do_ attract the strangest of people, Tsunayoshi."

If Tsuna wasn't in Hyper Dying Will Mode, he thinks he would have pointed out that Mukuro _is_ among the 'strangest of people' aforementioned. "Are they illusions?" he asks instead, since it's a plausible theory. If they aren't bound to reality, it makes sense for their attackers to be able to phase in and out of existence.

"Not according to Chrome. I suppose I could double-check." With a quick flourish of his hand, the illusionist brings his lenses up to his red eye. A slight frown overtakes him. "How odd. They–"

Apparently fed up with their discussion, one of the figures throws a slim blade in Mukuro's direction. He ducks, but the dagger curves in its path and swipes at his hair, leaving blue droplets across the cut strands.

Mukuro straightens up again. "As I was saying, they aren't made from Mist Flames. However, I can't seem to get an accurate reading."

Tsuna frowns himself, because as far as he knows, the Devil Lens should be able to pierce through the cover of any human being. "Meaning?"

"Weaknesses unknown, status unknown." His Mist Guardian smirks, unfazed by his own declaration. "I suppose I'll have to find out myself, won't I?" He reaches back to shake the poison out of his hair, trident forming in his other hand.

The blade-wielder steps forward, as if accepting Mukuro's challenge.

"It seems you aren't willing to talk. I'll have to fix that problem." The cruelty in Mukuro's leer is enough to strike down smaller animals on the spot. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

They take off – his Mist Guardian in a blur of wings, the enemy without fanfare.

Tsuna turns to the remaining shadow, the leader and the weakest one. "Who are you?" he asks quietly.

They lift their gun and shoot once. The brunet dodges it easily, intuition and his battling experiences at play. "Why are you trying to take our rings? What famiglia are you from?"

Bullets ricochet off his gloves and graze the neighboring trees. A few of them make pinging noise as they hit the park constructions. Still receiving no response, Tsuna rushes forward and slams his shoulder into his opponent's body. Their ribs crackle in his ears.

They disappear and reappear a few meters away, entirely unfazed. His eyes narrow. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

Finally, his enemy reacts. They reach into the pocket of their coat – slowly, but in a stiff, mechanic manner. Gokudera's ring, reverted back into its original state, glints between their gloved fingers.

Tsuna feels heat creep across his chest. "Give it back."

No reply.

"I don't know who you are or what you're trying to pull," he says in his lowest voice, "but either you give Gokudera-kun's ring back, or I'll take it from you by force."

In answer, the ring falls back into his opponent's pocket. They turn and flee.

Tsuna chases them.

He lifts off the ground and lunges at them from above, only for them to materialize on another surface – a distant rooftop, on the telephone lines, next to the sidewalk. The wind howls around him as he pounds the street with Natsu's gauntlet, albeit with a much smaller axle than before.

The enemy is fast. They recover each time they 'teleport'. If Tsuna can hit them faster than they can disappear–

"Herbivore," someone hisses as a metal beam swings toward him.

He rolls away, narrowly avoiding the bruising hit, and comes face-to-face with Hibari.

Not even his Hyper Dying Will Mode can prevent him from putting his palm to his forehead. "You followed Mukuro, didn't you?" he groans.

"You are destroying Namimori's property. I'll bite you to death."

"I'm not the one doing most of the destroying!"

His intuition sparks a warning. Both boys leap back as a shower of bullets rain down from the telephone poles, leaving steaming holes in the cracked pavement.

Hibari takes a long look at the damage. Murder flits across his face, killing intent awakened.

"I'm trying to catch them," Tsuna says as they take temporary cover behind a neighbor's tree. "They're after our rings, and they've already taken Gokudera-kun's. I'm trying to get his back."

His Cloud Guardian doesn't even blink as he processes the information. "Which one?"

The brunet frowns. "What?"

"Which one has the ring?"

"What do you mean? The one that's attacking us." He figures now and here is a great time to bring Hibari up to speed – under gunfire in a crowded neighborhood during a precarious situation. "There's four more of them fighting with Mukuro and the others."

The skylark gives him a sharp glance as he dodges another bullet behind the trunk. "Four more? Five total?"

"Yeah."

Tsuna ignites his palms and careens away from the tree. One of the bullets grazes his cheek. He ignores the splash of blood in the corner of his eye and slams his feet into the middle of the street, sending a ripple of fire similar to an electric wave heading straight toward the figure.

The figure disappears moments before it hits, although Tsuna expected as much. His mind races to conjure up a plan.

"Herbivore." Hibari's hand snakes forward to grab the front of his shirt. The prefect's eyes are blazing. "There are six of them."

For a heartbeat, Tsuna just stares. "What?"

"_Six_. Not five. There's another one watching you battle." His voice is soft, but the intensity of it pierces better than a sword. "_Don't look for her_. She's hiding in the trees to your left and she doesn't know she's been seen."

"She?"

Hibari scoffs silently. "Masked, hooded, but the body was feminine."

The other teenager casts a quick glance at their current enemy, who tilts their head slightly and stares at them in a blank fashion. For once, they seem to be allowing them to finish their hushed conversation. "I'm being watched," he mutters. "No, tested. They want to know my strength. The one I'm fighting is weaker than the rest, because they…they want me to try and finish this quickly. They expected that."

"Who are _they, _herbivore?"

"No idea. I can't close enough to remove the scarf or the hood." Tsuna's gaze darts rapidly across his surroundings – houses, concrete, the trees where the sixth enemy is hiding – before returning to Hibari. "I'm going to play along, and then take her out."

He takes to the sky again, his view of the world spinning like a carousel. Then, with a blink, his vision is tinted gold. A few meters away, the enemy never drops the barrel of their gun.

"Operation X," he says.

[UNDERSTOOD. X-BURNER SHOOTING SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]

Two bars light up in front of him, red and green. His right hand lifts behind him, and he turns slightly to face his opponent. Hibari hangs back below them, shading his eyes with one arm.

The person in black simply tilts their head and stands still on the telephone pole, not intimidated by the incoming attack. Perhaps they know they can dodge it, or that they'll be able to regenerate a moment later – Tsuna doesn't know, doesn't care. He feels a wall of flames shoot out of his palm, soft and water-like.

[RIGHT SENSOR STABLE AT 225000 FV. LEFT SENSOR CONCENTRATED INTO CRYSTAL.]

The brunet takes a deep breath and, remembering the detailed image of a fish he once managed to create with his Flames, taps down on his power. The Flames spit at him, willful and strong, but he manages to push them down regardless.

He didn't want to decimate the entire neighborhood, after all. Hibari would kill him, and then scatter his body parts across several vast continents.

[RIGHT SENSOR STABLE AT 175000 FV.] The X-mark in the middle of his vision blinks rapidly in front of the figure. [LOCK ON TARGET.]

Giotto told him he could control his attacks. He could make his Hard Flames shoot out faster, more condensed, in a smaller beam that would leave no time for his target to move.

Theoretically, it's possible.

[LEFT SENSOR RISING TO 150000 FV. 160000 FV. 170000 FV. LEFT SENSOR STABLE AT 175000 FV. LINE MATCHED. READY TO LAUNCH.]

"Wait," he mutters.

His opponent stands in front of him. A cluster of trees rise behind him.

The power in each of his hands begins to thrum unsteadily. Each side of him is balanced, with him at the core. His body is the source.

Theoretically, it is possible for him to use his body as the line of transfer, and switch his Hard and Soft Flames with each other.

Tsuna closes his eyes, although the two bars still blink beneath his eyelids. He can feel his Flames vanish from his hands, body suspended, the heat boiling his blood and burning and hurting. The pain is too much for him to even scream.

He can control it, so long as he lets each force overlap each other without dwindling and release on the other side. He can control it, so long as he can bear the feeling of dying in his own fire.

_Theoretically, it's – _

The crushing pain races along his arms, into his chest, and along his arms again. [TRANSFER COMPLETE.] The AI system's smooth voice overrides the agitation of his body. [RIGHT SENSOR CONTAINS HARD FLAMES. LEFT SENSOR CONTAINS SOFT FLAMES. TARGET LOCK-ON REVERSED. READY TO LAUNCH.]

He peels his eyes open to a dizzying flood of gold, and the minute widening of his enemy's eyes.

"Launch," he whispers.

His hands explode. In front of him, his opponent's form is swallowed by a sheen of harmless Soft Flames.

Behind him, his Hard Flames shoot forward, incinerating the trees.

Tsuna looks behind him to see a massive tunnel of Flames pour out of his hands – his aching, trembling hands – and eat away at the trees. The markings on his eyes fade away, revealing a stunning shock of white sky, nearly blinding. He lowers his arms as the last of the fire escapes him, weak and small and definitely not willing to try the same transfer again without practice.

The smattering of trees are torched to ashes. He lowers himself to the ground and collapses.

A hush falls over the area, broken only by the crackling of a distant fire.

Meanwhile, Tsuna is still gasping from the aftermath of pure agony. Despite the temperature being relatively warm, his breath comes out in visible white puffs – which isn't a good sign.

Hibari's footsteps approach him. The shuffling sounds muted and faint, surrounded by the echoes of white noise. "-ivore. Wake up. _Now_."

Belatedly, Tsuna realizes that his elbows and knees are being scraped against the rough bits of gravel along the street. He wipes a drop of sweat from his cheek. "That," he wheezes, "was such…a bad…idea."

His Cloud Guardian sounds incredulous. "You switched your Hard Flames with your Soft Flames at the last minute."

He reaches up and absentmindedly pats at his forehead. The flame is gone, as is his Hyper Dying Will state. "It was…theoretically possible, but it…it hurt. What…happened…to those guys?"

"The person you were fighting earlier is gone. They haven't returned."

"And the…one hiding in the…the trees?"

"If she got away, she wouldn't have done so unscathed. Get up, herbivore."

Tsuna clutches at his shirt. His entire body is damp with perspiration. The space around his heart feels hollow, as though the blood and mass that should be surrounding it is gone, and it's terrifying him. "Give me…a minute."

Judging from the sounds, Hibari has circled around to face him from the front. Shrill, bird-like chirps reach his ears. "Check if the spy is still there," the prefect orders his bird, while Tsuna kneels in front of him and focuses on _not dying_. "Where those trees used to be. Go."

With an affirmative trill, Hibird flutters off.

A few moments later, the brunet staggers to his feet and nearly trips on empty air in the process (something he hasn't done in a couple of months). "Fine, I'm fine," he rasps when Hibari's face twists with displeasure.

"You're a weak herbivore."

The hollowness is banished little by little. "S-Sorry. The pain's leaving. We should go check on the others."

The Cloud Guardian makes to say something, only to whip around and glower at the other end of the street. "No need."

"Jyuudaime!" cries the hazy shape from faraway.

Tsuna regains enough of his equilibrium to take a few steps forward. His swaying is steadied by Hibari's reluctant hand, accompanied by a disgusted stare that shows just how repulsive the prefect finds his feeble state to be.

"Guys!" Tsuna smiles at the rest of his friends as they approach. "Are you alright?"

Yamamoto reaches over to pat him, only to pause halfway and pull back. "We're all holding up. You…You look kind of pale, Tsuna. Are you – "

"It's fine. I just…did something I should've practiced…beforehand, is all." He sees Gokudera scrutinizing him. "I'm fine. Really."

Chrome steps forward, Mukuro close behind her. "Boss, our enemies…They just disappeared, all of a sudden."

Her counterpart's smirk widens. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, Tsunayoshi?"

Behind him, Hibird floats lazily down from the clouds and alights on Hibari's shoulder. The small, low beeping sounds must have some sort of interpretation to them, because the prefect nods back and tucks the bird back into his pocket. "The spy is gone," he reports. "Either you burned her to ashes or she's managed to escape."

"Spy?" Gokudera echoes.

Tsuna takes a calming breath. "There was a sixth person – a woman – watching me battle. She was hiding in the trees, so I took her by surprise and hit her with my X Burner. The one I was fighting – the one who has your ring, Gokudera – disappeared afterward." For a moment, he grits his teeth hard enough to push them back into his gums. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't get your ring back."

Gokudera's complexion has gone entirely white, but sparks still linger in his eyes. "It's fine, I – I should never have let them take it in the first place."

"Either way, this still leaves us with a predicament." Reborn pulls himself up from his make-shift alcove in Yamamoto's hood and clambers onto the teen's shoulder. The hitman has summoned the appropriate tone to match his steely-eyed look, causing everyone present to subconsciously straighten. "We can't afford to let them keep the Storm Ring. If they retreated after you attacked that woman, Tsuna, we'll have to hunt them down again."

Behind Reborn's back, five figures shimmer into existence.

Instantly, his Guardians slide into their respective fighting positions. "Speak of the devil," Mukuro says airily as he flips his trident around.

None of their anonymous enemies move to take out their weapons, which have slipped back into the dark folds of their clothes. One of them, the blade-wielder, turns their head robotically to look at their leader in the middle of the line that they've formed.

To the group's astonishment, they – no, he – speaks for the first time. "Carry out the mission."

"Yes," replies the leader as she steps forward. Her voice is delicately, deceptively soft, and entirely impassive. Tsuna tries to suppress the shivers wracking his body.

She takes another step, breathes out visibly, and halts in place. All of her comrades have turned their heads to look at her now. The brunet comes to the unsettling realization that they all have the same eyes, remote and hollowed-out and dead-like.

"Carry out the mission," another echoes.

Her head shakes violently from side to side. "But it's not him. " She stops and stares at him, her eyes a lackluster brown. "Who are you?"

Tsuna exchanges glances with his friends – he expected them to already know. "I'm…Sawada Tsunayoshi. Who are you?"

"Do not reply to him," says her comrade.

The leader jerks her head again. "But it's…not him."

"Do not reply to him." Their gazes never leave the woman. "Carry out the mission."

"Yes." All at once, she stills. "Okay."

The brunet looks on, unable to make sense of the situation. He moves forward, and while he acknowledges the small sound of warning Reborn gives him, he continues anyway.

All of their eyes snap to him immediately. The leader holds out a gloved hand. "Give me your ring," she orders him.

Tsuna forces his words to flow smoothly from his mouth, rather than tumble out in jittery consonants that would accurately reflect his anxious state of mind. "No. Give back the Ring of the Storm."

His demand seems to fall on deaf ears. "Summon Giotto from your ring," she says monotonously, "or I will kill you."

He feels his limbs slacken with surprise, hears the startled hiss from several of his Guardians. "I – what?"

"Summon Giotto from your ring, or I will kill you."

"How do you know about Giotto-san?"

She continues like his presence is meaningless to her. "He will want to see me. He made me a promise."

Tsuna shakes his head slowly. "I…I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

The leader reaches up to grab the cowl of her hood, and pulls it back, exposing a wild tangle of white-blonde hair. The strands curl down to her shoulders – wisps hover against her ears and neck. One of her fingers slips under her scarf to tug that off, as well.

Her face is young, pretty-like, and dispassionate.

Tense silence sweeps over them. Tsuna's breath hitches as his intuition calls out a final, frantic warning, shuddering inside his skin. He bites his lip and expects anything to happen.

He doesn't expect the flash of golden fire beside him, nor the silhouette of the spirit that follows.

"G-Giotto-san?" Tsuna whispers, shaken by the sight of his ancestor. None of the spirits are meant to interfere with their battles. They only appear in times of crisis, not to fight and live in place of their successors.

Giotto shouldn't be here. This is wrong.

His ancestor ignores him entirely. Shock widens his eyes, opens his mouth, and makes his entire face blossom. "Emilie?" he asks.

She stares back at him, not a hint of recognition – or anything, really – on her features. "Hello, my star."

Tsuna has never seen Giotto look so lost. "Emi – "

Apparently, Emilie has no patience for the blonde's words. "I died," she states. "Do you remember?"

His ancestor's intake of breath whistles like a knife. Her question acts like a sword impaling him through the chest. "Y–"

"I was killed by those men. My son was taken from me." She tilts her head. "You stole him from me, Giotto. You promised me he would be safe."

Giotto lifts a trembling hand to his mouth.

"Wh-What's going on, Giotto-san?" Tsuna's gaze darts between the two of them. "Who is she?"

The woman continues relentlessly, ruthlessly. "He died at a very early age. He was only thirty. He didn't have time to love his family, just like me." The choking noise the spirit makes is ignored, buried beneath her wounding words. "How could you let me die, Giotto?"

Tsuna lashes out at the space between them, his hand slicing through the tension without any effect. He can't stand the look on Giotto's face any longer. Panic colors his words before he can stop himself. "Stop it! What are you saying? Who _are_ you?!"

Calmly, she holds out her hand again. The teen notices a green lizard crest spiraling on the back of it. "All will be forgiven, my star," she intones, "if you give me the Ring of the Sky."

The spirit freezes in place, his voice barely even a whisper. "Wh…at?"

Her dead eyes seem like they can stare at him forever. The beginnings of loathing begin to form in Tsuna's gut.

"I'm – I don't – no, I _can't_, I…" Giotto shifts backward like a creature cornered, a myriad of agonized emotions reflecting from his being. "Emilie, why? Why are you here? You…"

Mist Flames swirl around the space on Tsuna's other side, and the brunet gapes, unable to fathom why these spirits are appearing like this.

Daemon Spade's body forms from the murkiness. "Enough of this," he says frigidly, rivaling Alaude with his own chilling smirk. "It is an illusion, you fool, conjured by one of their kind. There is no other explanation."

"It's not." Chrome and Mukuro speak out in unison.

Emilie doesn't spare any of them a single glance. "I'm real, my star," she says as she tugs off one of her gloves. Her bare hand is offered to the Sky spirit. "Touch me. I'm here."

Wide-eyed and hesitant, Giotto reaches out.

"Wait!" Tsuna shouts.

In the blink of an eye, Emelie flips something grey – silver – shiny – out of her sleeve and moves to slap it against Giotto's wrist – only for Daemon to dart forward, a black scepter sailing out in front of him and crunching against the woman's long neck.

She falls to the ground and disappears, only to reappear unscathed next to her comrades. Daemon flinches, actually _flinches_, as the shiny thing – a metallic band – ensnares his arm with a resounding click.

The Mist spirit presses his quivering wrist against his abdomen. "What did you – "

The woman lifts her gun, as does the other figure on the far left of the line. They fire.

Tsuna hesitates for too long. The first bullet misses by a centimeter. The next one rips through Daemon's upper arm, a trail of blood spots and duke-blue threads in its wake. The spirit's shoulders twist upon impact.

The sight of it is horrible and strange and Tsuna refuses to believe it.

Natsu's presence pulsing within him, the brunet finds himself planted in front of Daemon's crumpling form. He crosses his arms as giant folds of fabric are flung to the air, and he doesn't even know if his defense can block physical attacks like bullets, but he doesn't have to worry for long. The pinging of bullets against the cloak give him his answer.

As the gunfire dies away, he casts away the mantle, ready to bring it out again at a moment's notice. "Daemon," he says, not even daring to move. "Daemon, can you stand?"

The spirit shifts behind him and says nothing.

Giotto's voice nears them. "Daemon, you – you should go back, you shouldn't have – "

Daemon rises to his feet again, his lethal aura falling over the area. "What did you do to me, Emilie?" If he were anyone else, Tsuna would think he sounds frightened. "What have you done?"

Emilie only extends her hand again, the gun lowered safely at her side. "Come back to me, Giotto."

He shakes the metal band in her direction. "What is this? Some _contraption_ that cuts me off from my ring? How did you come by this?"

"I'll forgive you, my star, if you can help me."

The Mist spirit's laughter is vicious. _"Like hell!"_ he seethes, suddenly livid.

Their enemies raise their guns again.

Faster than Tsuna can blink, red fire bursts from within their midst. When it blows away, G stands next to Emilie, one hand forcing her gun down and the other reaching up to – strangely – clutch at his own throat. "You're not Emilie," he snarls despite sounding strained. "Emilie is _dead_! Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?"

The woman who may or may not be Emilie gives Giotto another one of her blank stares. "I wonder if you ever forgot about me, during the time that's passed," she calls. "If you ever forgot about Yoshimune."

Giotto cups his mouth with his hands again. His voice, while muffled, is closer to a sob than anything else. "No, no, _no_ – "

She ignores him and turns to her group. "Master is dead. We will retreat."

With that, multiple things happen.

Firstly, the line of shadowy figures, with the exception of their leader, steps back in perfect synchronization and disappears – a noiseless escape.

Then, Daemon draws to Tsuna's side, and now, the teenager can see the trickles of redness seeping through the fingers clamped around his arm like brand new veins.

G wrenches the gun out of the woman's grasp. "_Shut up! _How _fucking dare _you?! You're _nothing_ like Emilie!"

"G!" Gokudera shouts as he runs forward, trying to prevent the inevitable.

Unfazed, the woman steps back. In the shimmering, split-second transition in which she is both there and not there, G gasps and buckles inward, clawing at his throat. Daemon waves his scepter, sending a wraith of concentrated flames flying in her direction, and Giotto yells something that may have been like _wait_ or _stop_ or _never_.

A single blink, and she's gone.

G disappears along with her. Daemon's Flames collide into nothingness.

Giotto stands there, gasping in his breathlessness. The Mist spirit takes one look at his former boss and growls, "Don't you dare leave without explaining this. Don't you _dare_ run away now, you damn _fool_ – "

The Sky spirit never meets his Guardian's gaze. He bursts into Sky Flames and returns to his ring.

Daemon slams his scepter against the ground and lets it clatter to his feet. "_You_ _coward!"_ he roars at the pavement, making Tsuna jump. "Rot in hell, Giotto! You…pathetic, spineless, miserable – "

As Daemon's chest heaves, the brunet draws closer to him. His friends gather in a circle around the remaining spirit. "D-Daemon, what was that?" he asks. "What just happened?"

The spirit merely shakes his head and chuckles. The sound rises into a fit of bitter mirth, seizing his frame and folding him at the waist.

Tsuna grabs his uninjured arm. "Daemon, please! Who is Emilie?"

The explosion of laughter that spills from the spirit's lips is far from humorous. It dies away as quickly as it surfaced.

"Dear, sweet Emilie," Daemon hisses after he's finished, "is Giotto's _dead_ _wife_."

* * *

**Endnotes:** okay so the plot is starting and it's going to be all over the place and it's probably not going to be what you might want it to be, but maybe you guys will still want to stick around for the ride or something? anyway, i'm really horrible at action scenes, but fanfiction is basically my way of practicing my writing, so hopefully i'll improve.

now that this chapter is out of the way, i'm going to work on my other story faux, and then take a very quick break to organize some things and maybe edit some very small stuff in the previous chapters (you won't have to reread them, i'll just be fixing a few phrases that stick out too much because my editing is bad). then…we'll see how it goes from there hahaha

thanks for all the new follows, favorites and reviews. (: your support is appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings:** violence, language, GEN, after-manga timeline

**Summary:** Not long after Giotto and his Guardians begin to leave their rings and pay regular visits to the material world, Tsuna starts to wonder why they all look so young. (GEN)

**Author's Note:** the plot's going haywire what is this, please prepare yourself for the lengthy dialogue session

* * *

Each time the mafia strikes with its maddening blood and sin, it always feels a step closer to home.

"There's no need to worry, Tsu-kun."

Tsuna tucks his head into his arms, which are folded on the bed sheets next to his mom's legs, and smiles into them. Her soft, petal-like fingers are wrapped in a handshake around his, and if he's gripping them too tightly for her comfort, she doesn't breathe a single word about it.

He glances up at the clock on the opposite wall. Half past five, it reads. "I…I know, Mom. But _still_."

"Oh, it doesn't hurt too bad. I think I told you that already."

"But Shamal—I mean, the doctor said it was a pretty serious blow. It's gonna take a while for you to recover."

She sighs, her head shifting against the pillows. "Yes, yes, I know. It's been such a long time since I had a concussion, though. Do you remember the last time, Tsu-kun?"

He huffs. "Th-That was different! You just hit your head on the counter. Nobody was trying to _break _into our _house_."

"Honestly, Tsu-kun, don't look so down! I'm sure the danger's passed." A small frown creases her forehead, stirring the pack of ice and the towel lying across it. "Then again, it seems like lots of people have been trying to rob us these days."

Tsuna cringes, remembering all the previous assassination attempts they've had in the last year or so—although none of them were as nearly as dangerous as the one they're all currently recovering from. "I wonder what's happening with the crime rates around here?" his mom continues.

Tsuna bites down on his lip and tries to shove his guilt aside as he listens to the dreamy, lilting quality to her voice, detached from the recent events. "I…You're tired, Mom. I can hear it. You should get some sleep."

"Ah, just a minute! Don't you all need dinner? I should—"

"_Sleep_, Mom.

"Mou, Tsu-kun—"

"Please?"

Her brown eyes – the color of his own – flutter a little. "Mm…alright. I'll let you handle it, since you're…growing up now. Are you staying here, Tsu-kun?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to be alright?"

Her words slip from her lips as barely a murmur, but he still manages to catch them. He watches her body sag into the blankets like the mattress is quicksand, an exasperated smile playing across her lips, and he pulls her hand closer to his chest.

"Yeah," the brunet whispers, even though his mom is already half-asleep and she's not the one who should really be asking that question.

She sighs and lolls her head to the side, a half-formed word ("good") fading into the air. Tsuna lifts his head up to glance at the clock again.

Five thirty-one.

Carefully, he reaches over and nudges his dozing Lightning Guardian at the foot of the bed. "Wake up, Lambo," he says in his own hushed tones. "Mom's asleep. Let's go back to the living room."

"Mmrph," the toddler says, his back turned.

Tsuna sighs and goes to nudge him harder, but then his ring sears the skin of his finger with the faintest touch of heat, and he freezes in place as golden flames swirl in a cocoon-like shape next to the near wall.

The flames pull away, leaving a familiar spirit leaning beside the doorframe – amber-eyed and blond and with an aura of exhaustion that goes deeper than just physical exertion.

Giotto stares at the peaceful figure of Tsuna's mom, his weight shifted against the wall like it's the only support he has left. "I apologize," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

There's a slight pause as Tsuna scrambles for words. "I-It's not your fault that she's—"

"And yet, despite being entirely uninvolved with the first half of your battle, I still feel the need to bear some kind of responsibility for your mother's state of health," his ancestor interrupts softly, with a ghostly smile. His gaze falls on some random point in the far corner of the room. "I'm…I don't know. I'm also sorry for…many of my actions as of late."

The brunet leans back against his chair. "Like what?"

Giotto runs his thumb over his mouth, seemingly deep in thought. "Reacting the way I did to your question," he says after a while. "Ignoring you afterward. Putting Daemon in a vulnerable position."

Tsuna musters up a weak, slanted smile. "You…You don't have feel sorry for any of those. It's fine. And…that last one—that apology shouldn't be for me…" He trails off, mainly to recollect his thoughts. The tension between them is smaller than he expected it would be—or maybe it's just been compacted, bottled up somewhere inside, waiting to explode in the roaring noise of lions.

His ancestor finally meets his gaze. Concern flutters in those bright, jewel-like circles. "How is he? Daemon?"

"He's actually in the living room right now. Knuckle patched him up. He's…well, you can check up on him yourself, but I heard the wound's not as bad as it could've been. The bullet went through clean." He rises to his feet and lets his mom's hand lower onto the blankets. The warmth bleeds away from his own skin faster than he wants it to. "Knuckle said…he said the rest of your Guardians are waiting for you. So we can talk."

Giotto mutters something Italian under his breath before asking, "How angry did I make Daemon, exactly?"

Tsuna gathers up Lambo in his arms, ignoring the mumbles of protest he receives from it. He hunches his shoulders. "Uh…really, really mad?"

The spirit's voice is surprisingly flat. "Marvelous."

Hefting his Lightning Guardian against one shoulder, Tsuna grabs the handle of his mom's bedroom and turns it. He has to tilt his head up to watch Giotto's face, and the height only serves to make him feel smaller than he already is. "Why…Why did Daemon react like that? When you disappeared?"

Giotto merely shakes his head, bluntly refusing to answer him.

The brunet stalls for time. "Are you…?"

"Go on, Tsuna. I'm fine."

Every molecule of Tsuna identifies that last statement to be a _lie, lie, lie_, but he opens the door anyway and slips into the hallway. The lights are all out, save for the dim ones in the living room that cast a faint glow on the floor. He draws toward it with Giotto following him, like two moths attracted to a flame.

The scene they enter is quiet.

All his Guardians are assembled, including Reborn; they lounge in various positions around the room. Hibari has dropped in the most recently out of all of them, having just returned from his place with the Disciplinary Committee, and he lingers in the shadows away from Mukuro's end. The Cloud Guardian is restless, irritated, his nerves apparent in the lines of his posture even though his face remains composed, calculating.

Mukuro sits against the wall, spinning a black feather idly in one hand. Chrome stands beside him, and she would be gracefully poised if it weren't for the whiteness in her hands tucked in front of her stomach. Ryohei leans back on one of the cushions next to the coffee table. The Sun's eyes are half-lidded – tired or contemplative, Tsuna can't tell which.

Meanwhile, Yamamoto lingers beside the lamp, his face hidden by the papery shade. And Gokudera is—

His Storm Guardian has his back turned, but the chaotic mess of his emotions—guilt, probably, along with fury—are still expressed for all the world to see.

Daemon reclines against the couch, his right shoulder swathed in bandages. The coat has been cast aside and his red shirt cut away from the wound. Knuckle is seated next to him, staring lazily at the ceiling and actually _twiddling his thumbs, _wow.

Tsuna soaks up his surroundings in a heartbeat, even as every single head swivels toward them as soon as they step through the doorway.

Daemon's eyes narrow. Not a good sign.

Immediately, the brunet obeys his intuition and steps to the side, leaving a clear line between Giotto and his (former) Mist Guardian. The atmosphere takes on a fizzling, crackling energy, like the snapping of Gokudera's dynamite before they're ready to burst. He doesn't think he would even have the guts to stop their fight if one happened to break out.

Thankfully, the silence doesn't last long. "Four hours," Daemon says, his voice calm and angry and terribly unimpressed. "I do believe you've set a record."

Giotto stares at him, but not meekly. "I needed to think. Alone."

A terrible bark of laughter. "Yes, who _knows_ what kinds of ludicrous assumptions you've been spinning up while you were _hiding_ that ring of yours? But then again—" Daemon turns his head to the side. Scorn shows in the wrinkles beneath the slashes called eyes set deep into his face. "—I suppose we should all feel fortunate that you deigned to show up at all."

Out of sight, out of mind, Tsuna clenches his fists as he remembers Daemon's tightly contained wrath ("Summon him from the ring, boy. I doubt he'll show himself willingly.") and mocking leers ("That man will hide away for the rest of _your_ days like his _own_ existence depends on it—") while the spirit was being bandaged.

His ancestor's smile is like faint, flickering candlelight. "Do you think me so cowardly, Daemon, that I'd dare repeat my gravest mistakes?"

"Enough." Knuckle cuts in without batting an eye. "Just…enough. Let this rest, you two."

Daemon leans back even further as the tension subsides a little, although his gaze never leaves the Sky spirit, full of ice and fire and shredded metal along with…something Tsuna can't identify. His smirk returns to him.

"You've truly been waiting for me? For four hours?" Giotto asks the room.

Chrome pipes up this time, although her voice is quieter than whispering leaves. "Not that long. We've cleaned up the house, and the Disciplinary Committee came by to fix the damage. Then we ran out of things to do."

With a small smile, Knuckle inclines his head toward the Sky spirit. "It's time we gave them an explanation. If not that, then…a discussion, at least." He gestures at the air – no, at the predicament they've been placed in. "To fix this, whatever this is."

Smoothly, Giotto's features shift into something firm, harder than steel and stronger than his own weariness – a boss's look, Tsuna realizes. It tucks away the weariness, slides on like a second face, and it suits him. Tsuna wonders how long it took for him to learn how to hide everything away.

"You shall have it," Giotto says.

The space around the room explodes with dancing hues—blue, green, purple (but _not red)_—as Asari, Lampo, and Alaude appear from the masses of flames (but _not G_). All of them are seated against the walls as if the living room is their own personal lobby (which it kind-of-sort-of is, now that Tsuna thinks about it).

Tsuna takes a deep breath and resolves to make himself as comfortable as his mind allows. After all, this isn't necessarily _his_ meeting—it's Giotto's. A part of him says to just sit back and tense up and watch the show unfold.

"About time," Alaude snaps as soon as they all materialize.

The Sky spirit smiles without any real humor. "My apologies, Alaude."

"It's fine, Giotto," Asari says, leaning forward, his fingers interlocked. "You say you've been thinking?"

Daemon sneers. "Yes, why don't you start us off, then? You've already spent a solid four hours preparing yourself."

"_Daemon_," Knuckle warns, and the Mist withdraws into himself like a curling plant.

His ancestor lowers his head, unfazed by the bite in those words. When he lifts it again, Tsuna sees—with no small amount of trepidation—that his expression is as blank as before, if not worse. He didn't think it could be worse, but it is. It's just void and not-human and nothing, and—"I'll start from the beginning. Everyone in this room is aware that Emilie was my wife, is that right?"

They nod.

"The woman who claimed her name four hours previously had…the same face, and the same voice. Logically, it shouldn't be her. The dead don't come back to life. But I cannot deny—"

"Don't," Asari says, his voice chilled several degrees. "Don't say such things. That woman acted nothing like Emilie did."

Knuckle bobs his head. "I have to agree. I thought it was an illusion, and if not that, then at least some kind of disguise."

"A _disguise_—" Giotto's laugh, while quiet, has a tinge of something wild to it (that's the first sign). "Emilie died almost two centuries ago. As my wife, _Vongola Primo's_ wife, she needed to be careful. As such, there were very few pictures of her taken – or at least preserved. The ones that _did_ exist only captured her younger self. As for…that woman, her face—" He swallows and motions helplessly toward his own face, where the cracks in his mask have begun to show (that's the second). "There were…_details_. Emilie had…a scar on her cheek, from knocking into a banister—which she obtained only a few months before she died—and that woman had that. It was _there_."

Asari blinks harshly, ducks his head a little, and purses his lips. "That's not—Giotto—"

His ancestor doesn't even pause for breath (_maybe if he stops, he might not be able to start again_, whispers the part of Tsuna closely intertwined with his intuition). "There are two possibilities that we know of. The first is that, somehow, Emilie has been revived from the dead or has been able to survive and live two centuries without aging, which is—should be—impossible, seeing as she is no Mist Flame user. The second is that there is a person—a group of people—trying to accomplish a goal by having one of their members pose as Emilie. At this point, I'm not entirely sure which one is more plausible—" He meets Daemon's gaze with his own fiery one as the Mist spirit opens his mouth. "No. Please. There's more."

Wisely, Daemon stills. Tsuna runs his hands through Lambo's curls, distantly aware that everyone in the room is clinging onto every word his ancestor speaks.

Giotto closes his eyes. "The woman from before…spoke of things she shouldn't have known, if she was only disguised as Emilie. My wife died at the same time I did, escaping the enemy famiglie, and when—" He pauses to glance at Asari. "Ugetsu?"

The Rain's eyes have gone wide. The sight is entirely unnatural, shattering the man's previous composure. "Did she?" he murmurs.

Daemon lets his head fall back against the couch, surveying the Rain spirit coolly. "Emilie and Giotto were both reported to have died at the same time. You wouldn't have known, naturally. The news wouldn't have gotten to you quickly enough." He turns his head slightly, and Tsuna follows his gaze to Alaude, whose eyes glitter with indescribable meaning. "And you? You look a bit surprised, as well."

The Cloud spirit tilts his head forward almost reluctantly. "I made the natural assumption, but I never had the chance to confirm Emilie's death." He turns his attention back to the man aforementioned. "Continue."

Giotto blatantly ignores the piercing stare Asari gives him. "As I was saying, my wife died with me. She took the tunnels beneath the northern half of the city. I…told her to take them until she was well past the bridge, and then meet up with the Akaikane at the edge of Hiroshima, where she would have been safe—but the plan failed, obviously. She never made it there. I don't know how they caught up with her, but they _did_, and…"

Tsuna thanks every deity he can name off the top of his head that Giotto doesn't look so lost, even if the blank mask is hiding it. He might not be able to keep _looking_ at his ancestor (without hurting for him) otherwise.

"I took Yoshimune to Alaude's men, in case he was targeted. Then, I went back and found her—" Giotto closes his mouth, opens it, tries again, even as his voice weighs with a tremendous darkness that makes Tsuna wrap his arms around Lambo a little too tightly. "I told her Yoshimune would be safe. I promised. That was…the only oath I have ever made to her since I met her."

Mukuro arches an eyebrow as the feather in his hand loops around and around, a circle of spiraling midnight. Out of all of Tsuna's Guardians, he and Alaude are the only two to appear mostly unfazed. "The only oath, you say?"

Knuckle smiles in the light parts of the shadows and answers for him. "Emilie loathed promises. She thought they were silly, I recall." He looks at Giotto, his shoulders bunched up beneath the fabric of his clerics. "She often said that people tossed them around too often."

"And Yoshimune was your son, correct?" Reborn speaks up for the first time that evening.

"Yes."

The single word comes out too low, too quiet, and there's an aching melancholy in Giotto's molten eyes that flashes past quicker than Tsuna can fully process it.

In the corner of the room, Lampo is tense—like electricity is bolting through his veins—and his visage calculating. He looks nothing like the person who dozed on Tsuna's couch and fled in terror from G's infuriated bellows. "So what does this mean?" he asks sharply, with only the smallest tremor. "What are you getting at?"

_"You promised me he would be safe."_

"The woman referenced a promise like that while she was speaking to you," Tsuna realizes out loud, and the full brunt of their attention makes him subconsciously straighten. He doesn't cower—his mind is too busy whirring with new puzzle pieces. "She said something like…'you promised me he'd be safe'. Something like that."

"We were alone when I swore to her," Giotto adds, and for a moment, that sentence doesn't really seem to contribute to anything.

Then, Yamamoto stiffens as revelations dawn upon him. "If…If that person is only _pretending_ to be Emilie, how would she know about that promise? Because…if you made it while Emilie was dying, and if no-one else was around—"

The ensuing silence thickens tenfold for each passing second.

"I came to the same conclusion," Giotto finally says.

"This is ridiculous."

The mocking statement comes from Daemon, who shakes his head disbelievingly at his former boss like all the world's gone to hell. The anger is still there, still present, but Tsuna now suspects it's for a different reason. "You can't possibly base all your assumptions on that woman's rambles. She could have simply assumed that you'd have made such a promise towards your wife. A sworn oath to protect your son—it wouldn't be unexpected for anyone to swear such a thing in their last moments."

In his mind, Tsuna has to agree, and half the reason he does is because the other option—the idea that Giotto's Emilie, the one he knows, would tell him those cruel, heartbreaking things—is unimaginable.

Giotto smiles, and it's a crude, twisted little thing. Possibly the worst smile he's ever given. "She called me her star. Emilie is the only person who ever called me that."

Daemon jerks his head from an invisible slap, and his smirk falls away and drips down onto the floor. "That woman is not Emilie," he states flatly, like it's a fact, plain as day—like he's just told him the earth revolves around the sun and _dead people don't come back to life_. "I barely knew your wife, yet even I can see that they are not the same person. Your guilt is working against you and you need to _get it under control."_

His ancestor drops the smile (good, it's gone, Tsuna hates it so much). "For now, we can leave it open to two possibilities. Let's move on. Emilie is only a single member of the group she was working with. Tsuna, I saw through your eyes as you were battling Emilie—"

Knuckle makes a noise, the beginnings of a protest. They can't possibly be done talking about Emilie. There's so much more to be said, there's—

Giotto ignores it. "While you were fighting her, did you notice anything about her gloves? The backs of them, in particular?"

The backs of her gloves? What—

_Calmly, she holds out her hand again. The teen notices a green lizard crest spiraling on the back of it._

"A-A crest," Tsuna blurts out. "A lizard crest, stitched on the back."

Ryohei blinks at him. "Was there?"

"Yeah, I was close enough to see it, when she held her hand out. Does that…tell you anything?"

"No, but it is certainly a start to discovering their identity," Giotto points out.

"Describe this crest," Alaude orders cuttingly.

"Uh, well…there was the lizard in the middle, with a long tail. The entire thing was green." The brunet digs his fingers into his own scalp. "I…there was some kind of wreath around it, like…fire, I think? Yeah, it was surrounded by fire, really detailed, and I'm pretty sure the lizard was forming some kind of infinity symbol with its body. That's all I could make out."

He and his Guardians look to Reborn, sitting on the coffee table with his stout legs dangling in front of him. After all, Reborn is the greatest hitman. This is his territory.

"I don't think I've ever seen a crest like that," his tutor admits. "The Verro and the Torrione have lizards incorporated into their symbols, but they aren't shaped in the same way as what you described. I'll need to call someone to look into it."

"That woman's role was to get you to leave your ring." Daemon shakes his wrist, and the metal band dangles there, flashing in the poor light. "And this was meant for _you_, not me. It's preventing me from going back into my ring." He smirks widely, but a shred of fury threads its way in. "My, my. How quickly technology has progressed."

"You…You really can't go back? Not at all?" asks a tentative Chrome.

"I cannot."

Knuckle's lips thin. "We can't get it off. If he didn't have it on him, he could go back inside the ring instead of staying in pain like this—"

Tsuna frowns and pulls his thoughts inward, cradling Lambo against his chest.

The band prevents Daemon from returning to his ring. Since Daemon's body isn't physical, he can heal himself inside the ring, which is his energy source. The enemies shot at Daemon as soon as the band was full encircling his arm.

_Think._

"What would happen," he says slowly, "if you had been shot in the head, and not your shoulder?"

Conversation stalls.

The Mist spirit's eyebrows seem to rise well above his forehead and beyond. "Pardon?" he replies, which is probably too mild of a response for such a dark question—not that there's an appropriate response for that, either.

Tsuna rubs the back of his head. "I was just thinking that…okay. Let's say you died, right here, right now. Like someone just snapped your neck or something. _Hypothetically_," he stresses when Daemon begins to look vaguely affronted by the prospect. "If that bracelet-thing's still preventing you from returning to your ring…what would happen?"

Daemon fiddles with the band a little. He gives the brunet a peculiar look, careful and considering, before awareness dawns on him. "Ah."

A second later, Mukuro laughs, like he's finally understood the punchline of a joke that was told to him yesterday. "Interesting!"

"What," Hibari says, ten seconds and a lack of an explanation away from striding out of the room.

Daemon taps the band with crackling fingernails. "Normally, if died now, I would return to the ring as a basic fragment of will, and would then be able to materialize with a perfectly healthy body a few seconds afterward. However, with this contraption preventing me from returning to the ring, the physical manifestation of myself would fail and my will would have nowhere to return to. Then, I'm assuming it would fade entirely out of existence."

Giotto's eyes widen. "Ah," he says.

A low chuckle, filled with genuine mirth, rises into the air. "You would die," Mukuro says gleefully, although Tsuna knows better than to think lowly of his Mist Guardian for it. "At least, the fragment of your soul that is _you_ would disappear. And to think you once told us it's impossible to kill a dead man."

Daemon matches that smile of knives with one of his own. "Looking back now, I suppose I was only doubting my abilities. Third time's the charm, isn't it?"

"Hey, cut that out," Lampo drawls. He pauses. "Not literally, though. Don't hurt yourself. We can get you, like, one of those suicide lines—"

A cold light, a violet flicker, and Daemon twirls his scepter in one hand – in the same smooth way Mukuro was toying with his feather, Tsuna notices. He smiles at the Lightning spirit, who presses his back against the wall, a babble of excuses and apologies bubbling from his lips.

Knuckle reaches over and catches the scepter without fear. "Really, Daemon, cut it out! You can't throw accurately with your good hand right now, anyway."

"Why are you supporting him?" Lampo whimpers. Nobody acknowledges that question.

Seemingly bored, Daemon banishes his weapon. "Your opponents from before intended to use this contraption on Giotto, meaning their goal was to maim or kill while preventing any kind of quick recovery," he says, like no interruption ever even occurred. "However, I suspect they were aiming to injure only, otherwise their aim would have been terribly off. I was close enough to them that even an amateur could have shot me in a vital area, as long as they weren't shooting in the complete opposite direction."

Gokudera looks up and finally, _finally_ joins in on the discussion. "But…why would they be trying to hurt you? And how could they—how did they even know about the spirits inside the ring? It's supposed to be a secret, isn't it?"

"Contained in Vongola's upper echelon, yes," Asari agrees, "but clearly, those are among the many questions we have yet to answer. Why did they take the Ring of the Storm? How do their abilities work? High-speed regeneration and some sort of teleportation involved—both have already proven to be troublesome." He smiles razors. "Why did the woman mention having a 'master'?"

The thoughtful lull in their discussion doesn't last long.

"It's—It's pointless to keep guessing like this. We need answers, and they're not just going to come to us," Tsuna concludes. "Reborn?"

His tutor tips his fedora, steady and trustworthy and always reliable during times when his help is needed. Tsuna finds that he tends to lean in for Reborn's reassurances, to watch for small smirks and cocky remarks that tell him everything is going to be fine.

"I've already called Shoichi and Spanner over to look at Daemon's bracelet," says the infant. "They're being hired for Nono's services right now, but they'll be in Namimori by tomorrow morning. I'll ask Mammon and my contacts for more information, as well."

Things click in place inside the brunet's mind. "And…And their abilities, too. Maybe they've been seen before, or people remember fighting them, or something."

"That, too. I'll have them working through the night."

"Right." Tsuna catches the spirits' expressions. "Uh, Shoichi and Spanner are inventors. And…kind of scientists. They've…They've helped us out a lot in the past. And Mammon's kind of like an information broker—he's the Varia's Mist Guardian and…a former Arcobaleno."

Giotto offers a curt nod. Tsuna is under the sudden impression that his ancestor is farther away than just a meter or so – no, much farther, like a distant figure on some vast plane he can't possibly hope to stand with. "Those people will return. The only reason they retreated was because this 'master' of theirs was defeated – by your hand, I believe. You'll need to be prepared."

_That wasn't Emilie_, Tsuna wants to say, but the atmosphere weighs down on his tongue and suffocates the words. "What happens now?" he asks instead.

Because they've somehow managed to talk about everything and absolutely nothing at the same time, and now what are they supposed to do?

"Now?" Reborn's dark gaze does a quick sweep on all of them before it settles on the window, on the darkening sky. "Rest," he simply says.

Tsuna runs a tired hand through his hair.

Rest is never possible. Not for them.

* * *

_Xanxus is trying to kill him._

_Tsuna's world is engulfed in smoke and concrete bits flying into his face, and the tendrils of the Flame of Wrath running up and along the air like crawling vines. It's hot, so so incredibly unbearably hot, but he has to keep fighting because Reborn and his friends and the Cervello are watching him and Kyoko's believing in him and he _can't lose.

_And then Xanxus hits him._

_And the warmth in his chest is gone, his arm is cold, and the air is no longer filled with noise. The world's gone_ silent, save for Tsuna's small, steady breaths as he blinks away the grit in his eyes.

Carefully, he pushes the blankets away and swings himself upright, putting his feet on the floor. His bedroom is dark, highlighted only by the spot of moon hung outside his window.

Not a nightmare. A memory.

He glances at his alarm clock. One fifty-three. He's slept for a sum total of two hours.

Then, he notices that the crumpled sleeping bag in front of him is empty. Gokudera is gone. Reborn is asleep.

Swirling his tongue inside his mouth, Tsuna gets to his feet—careful not to creak the floorboards—and slips into the hallway. One of the lights must be on in the living room, because there's a faint glow seeping through the crack beneath the door, but Tsuna leaves it for now and swipes a glass of water from the kitchen.

A slight breeze wafts through his hair. He glances up and notices the window above the sink has been left open, and there's a faint shadow on the rooftop where there shouldn't be.

Tsuna ducks down and squints through the shadows. "Gokudera-kun?" he whispers.

A small thud, and then his friend's face peers through the window at him. "O-Oh, Jyuudaime!"

"What are you doing up there?"

The other teen works his mouth for a moment, glancing at the moon and stars. "I…I was…"

Tsuna sighs, puts his cup into the dishwasher, and heaves himself up onto the kitchen counter. He ducks his head just in time, trying not to bruise himself on the window frame. "Help me up?"

Quickly, Gokudera reaches over and grabs Tsuna's arms, pulling the brunet onto the rooftop next to him.

The cold wind slaps his face, biting his ears and nose. The gravelly texture of the panels scrapes his feet like rough ice. He slides the window shut behind him, if only to keep the kitchen from freezing any longer, and lets Gokudera drag him up the slant of the roof – onto a flatter, wintery plane.

"How long have you been up here?" he asks the Storm, his voice uncannily loud in the night.

He gets a grimace in response. His friend is dressed in a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, probably freezing his blood the same way he is. "A few hours, maybe? I…I couldn't sleep."

A lull of silence lapses. Tsuna understands immediately.

The brunet sits down, straightening out his legs. Several seconds later, Gokudera plops down next to him. They stare at the moon together—this plain white ring surrounded by inky lines and endless nothingness.

Tsuna can't help but wonder. He runs his fingers along the nearby plates of the roof, feeling the small indents and broken pieces left over from their fight with their enemies.

"I've failed," Gokudera murmurs, barely audible. The Storm has his knees drawn up in front of him, and there's a pallid look to his face that shouldn't naturally belong there, no matter how cold the night is.

When Tsuna doesn't say anything immediately, he shakes his head, presses his palms to his forehead and breathes out all the air in his body. "I was so, so stupid. I should have never let them take the ring, Jyuudaime. I should've been careful."

Tsuna presses their arms together and listens.

"I'm…I mean, now what am I going to do? I can't even fight anymore, I can't help take back what's – what's my responsibility, and that's just…I'm a failure, Jyuudaime."

He scowls at his friend. "You're _not_. You're not useless, Gokudera-kun, you—you can still fight—"

"But without Uri, it's not good enough. _I'm _not good enough." Gokudera shakes his head. "Sorry, Jyuudaime. It's just that—" The white moon reflects twin dots in his eyes. "G was always telling me to—to be careful, and stop charging in when I fight, and I never really took it seriously—and now G's in the hands of the enemy and it's—it's my fault. If I had just listened and done better…"

"You know G's going to be fine."

Gokudera's head snaps up, gaze locking onto his own. There's a storm rolling in those depths. "How do you know?"

Tsuna leans back a little, distancing himself from the turmoil. "Because…why would they—"

He stops himself.

The enemy knows about the spirits in the rings. The enemy tried to attack Giotto and maybe-possibly kill him. Logically, the enemy isn't after the rings itself—but rather, what's inside them.

Still, that doesn't make any sense, because—"They can't hurt G," Tsuna points out. "They can't make him leave the ring willingly. So…they must've taken the ring for a different reason that to try to hurt him. And it's not like they can destroy the thing, either."

After a stretched-out pause, his friend deflates on the spot. "You're right, Jyuudaime," he mutters, searching the stars. A wry smile pulls his mouth upward. "I'm…kind of making too much of a big deal of everything, aren't I?"

Tsuna can't help but smile back. "Well, G would probably tell you to stop worrying."

"…Yeah. And then he'd kick me in the head or something. Like usual." Gokudera snorts. Something in the Storm's body eases up; jade eyes shine with renewed determination. "I…I told him I'd surpass him one day. That I'd prove myself to him. No way in hell are those bastards getting in my way!"

As much as he admires that shaky, lionhearted bravery, Tsuna feels like giving his friend a kick of his own. "Gokudera-kun, you're going to wake everyone!"

"O-Oh. Sorry, Jyuudaime."

He takes a deep breath, tasting the scent of summertime. Gokudera's warmth presses against his side, and he smiles (because unlike in his dream, he isn't fighting alone).

In the distance, an owl hoots, and—

A pale hand grasps the very edge of the rooftop in front of them.

"_Euagfhhh_," Tsuna says.

"You are far too easily surprised, boy," Daemon grunts as he swings himself up with one arm. "A mafia boss would need far more composure than that."

The brunet pinches the bridge of his nose, Gokudera bristling beside him. Shivers still cling to the backsides of his arms. "F-For the last time, I'm not going to be a mafia boss! And…And why are you getting up here?"

The spirit gives them a first-prize smile as he approaches with silent footsteps. He decides to completely ignore Tsuna's question. "I'd like to congratulate you, by the way. Not many people are able to muster up that much resolve after such a _shallow_ heart-to-heart chat."

"Nobody asked you!" Gokudera fumes.

Tsuna scrubs at his face as Daemon takes a seat several feet below them. "You were just eavesdropping this whole time? Who _does_ that?"

The glare he receives scorches straight through his bones more efficiently than dry ice. "Unfortunately, your voices can carry over to the living room. I found myself suddenly subjected under a dreadfully sentimental conversation between melodramatic teenagers."

One of the brunet's arms instinctively shoots out to hold Gokudera back at the waist. "I'm not melodramatic, you bastard," the Storm hisses.

Daemon's tone becomes lilting, indulgent – the kind of tone normally used to placate toddlers. "No? You were the one purposefully lowering your own self-esteem and whining about it." He turns forward to observe the full moon in all its glory and chuckles. "Over G of all people, might I add. If you are wasting time concerning yourself over that man of all people, you are severely underestimating his abilities."

"I get that already!"

As his friend's struggles subside, Tsuna puffs out a breath and releases him. He stares at the back of the Mist spirit's head, wondering and wondering, and questions fizzle out before they can fully latch onto his tongue.

"Hey, Daemon," Gokudera says, startling the brunet. Most of the teen's wrath seems to have bled out of him already. "The Primo…he still believes that woman really is Emilie."

Casually, Daemon glances at them over his shoulder. He stays silent.

Tsuna watches the silhouette of a bird swoop by overhead. "I want to help Giotto-san," he admits quietly, and mostly to himself. "It's just…I don't know _how_."

The spirit's smirk seems somewhat jagged. "That fool doesn't need your help. He's quite determined to drown in his own guilt regardless of anyone's efforts. However," he adds, and Gokudera's mouth shuts with an audible click, "it matters little in the long run. There is no denying the fact that Emilie is dead. Once this issue is resolved, Giotto will have proof that his wife truly rests in peace inside her grave, and that will be the end of it."

The brunet wonders if this is Daemon's way of offering reassurances. Still, he doubts 'the end' will be met so easily. Giotto is still hurting, and Tsuna can't possibly be the only person to see that.

"You don't know that, though," a new voice says.

With a jolt of surprise, he cranes his head around to see Lampo standing behind them. In the moonlight, the outline of the trees can be seen through his skin much more clearly. "Lampo?"

The Lightning spirit looks them all up and down. "You guys are moon-watching? You're not even old. Only old people go moon-watching."

Gokudera twitches. "What the hell do you _mean?"_

"Hey, brat, don't glare at the Great Lampo-sama like that."

"You obnoxious—"

Tsuna nudges him. "Gokudera-kun! Volume!"

Lampo goes around them, sits down, and stretches his entire body against the rooftops, as if his default posture is always a sleeping position. He rolls over onto his side and stares at them. "Really, though, what are you guys doing?"

Daemon picks at the bandages on his shoulder. "I could ask the same of you."

"I have plenty of energy, so I figured I'd check up on you. It's gotta be boring, just hanging around during the night while everyone else's sleeping. Thought you might've missed my glorious presence." Lampo eyes the other spirit. "Hey, quit that. Knuckle's gonna be mad at you if you take it off."

His smirk widens, but he obeys. "In my defense, it's been many years since I had to suffer through the aftermath of an injury."

Gokudera scowls at the Mist, and Tsuna braces himself for the impact, knowing exactly what his friend is going to bring up. "You mean you don't remember Jyuudaime beating you to the ground?"

One of Daemon's eyelids twitch visibly as he rounds on the Storm Guardian. "That was a separate part of my soul, boy. _I_ felt nothing."

Lampo cracks a smile. "That battle was hilarious, by the way. I didn't think you'd go down so easily—no, wait, wait wait wait wait no no no no—" He scrambles at the roof tiles in vain as the tip of Daemon's scepter presses down against the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry don't kill me I didn't mean it—"

Daemon tilts the Lightning spirit's chin along with his own. "By the way," he purrs, deaf to the other's whimpers, "what did you mean when you said 'I don't know that', _Lampo_?"

Visibly shuddering at the mention of his own name, Lampo blinks back rapidly. "Wh-What? Oh, oh yeah, I did say that that, but—"

"Emilie is dead. This is a fact."

"Y-Yeah, well, that's how it should be, and I'd—I'd like to think that too! But everyone thought _you_ were killed in the Pesca base a few hundred years back, and th-that's not exactly true, is it?"

Daemon pauses. His eyes flicker like candlelight. "You know where I was killed."

"Yeah? So?" Lampo makes a frantic, not-so-invisible gesture at Gokudera and Tsuna for them to help. Tsuna takes one look at Daemon's warning side-glance and gives his best apologetic grimace.

The Mist spirit frowns. "Don't play daft. How could you have known about the details of my death?"

"Uh, what do you mean? I read the reports, obviously."

The scepter taps twice against Lampo's collarbone before vanishing. "And yet, if I recall correctly…your death occurred several days previous to mine. You cannot possibly have read any reports on my death."

Lampo eases himself upright. His single sky-blue eye flashes, just a little. "But I didn't…" He groans and lies down again. "Oh. Ohhh. I think I get it. Did you get specific news about my death, or my _disappearance?"_

Daemon's eyebrows shoot for the stars. "Your disappearance…which implied death at the time. Are you suggesting that you—"

"Didn't actually _die_ until _after_ you did? Yep." Lampo kicks his feet a little; it's a childish action, and it would have deceived Tsuna into believing that this topic isn't at all meaningful if it weren't for the wild glint in the spirit's eye. "I was actually the last one to die out of all of us. I only disappeared because I was hiding."

"Hiding," the Mist spirit repeats.

Lampo blows out his cheeks. As he speaks, each word falls like a stone, entirely monotone. "Eh, yeah, what's there to tell? I heard that Giotto was gone, G and Asari were recently killed, so I figured—hey, these enemies, they're just going after all of us, right? So I snuck into Nagoya to hide. And...yeah, the yakuza—the Kodo-kai—were basically my only contact with the outside world."

The low chuckles in Daemon's throat rise in a hearty crescendo, until the Mist spirit is full-out roaring with laughter. His entire frame shakes and shudders.

Tsuna and Gokudera exchange cautious looks.

"What's your deal?" Lampo asks as Daemon wipes the tears leaking out of his eyes.

"You—" A spluttering laugh. "While the rest of us were avenging each other and hunting down our enemies, you were—_hiding?_ That is why you survived the longest? Oh, well—" He shakes his head with a grin wider than his own face. "I suppose you were true to your nature until the end. And were the Kodo-kai the ones to sell you out? The Yamaguchi yakuza were never a particularly…trustworthy organization."

Lampo twists his mouth to the side. "I guess so? I mean, I expected to be found eventually, but I don't know if our enemies just hunted me down the old way or forced someone to talk."

Daemon's laughter falters, although the mirth isn't so quick to slip away. "You expected to be found?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if they killed Giotto and the others, then they were obviously going to get to me, too. That's just logical."

The Mist spirit looks puzzled. "Why would you hide in the first place, then?"

"Uh…At first, I was going to try and figure out who exactly was attacking us—since everything was a chaotic mess back then, remember? And I actually managed to make a pretty big list of famiglie who were part of the so-called rebellion. It's just that I didn't have a way of sending it to the Secondo without the chance of it getting intercepted, and they'd have figured everything out in their own eventually, so that got tossed in the trash." Lampo stares at the moon, looking for all the world like he isn't recounting his own death. His tone is, for the lack of a better word, _bored_ – utterly disinterested. "So I just sat back and waited for my turn."

Tsuna becomes aware of the icy pit forming in his stomach. He swallows, but the sound of saliva grating against his throat is uncomfortably loud.

"You child," Daemon says, deadly in its quietness.

The Lightning spirit closes his eye. "And…yeah, that's it. For someone as great as me, it was actually pretty lame. Although, you know what?" He looks at the other spirit. "I never really thought about it before, you know? That I was the last one to die, out of all of us. It kinda explains some things."

"L-Like what?" Gokudera asks Tsuna's question. He can't think of anything that could possibly be explained by that kind of knowledge.

Lampo peers up at them. "Oh, hey. Forgot you guys were there." He shrugs, which ends up as a half-hearted wiggle because of his prostate position. "I had only one person come after me—a woman. And for some reason, she was furious. She even told me she was going to make my death miserable on purpose—which she did, by the way—but I never knew why she got so angry at me. I guess it's because—"

"Wh-What do you mean, 'made your death miserable'?" Tsuna asks, even though the majority of himself doesn't want to know, he really doesn't.

"…Because I was the hardest to track down and kill out of all of us," Lampo finishes with a small flourish of the hand. "Don't interrupt the Great Lampo-sama until he's d—"

Daemon reaches over and slams his fist into the other spirit's forehead. "Answer the question," he barks, irritation flowing from him in near-visible waves.

"Ow! Hey!" The Lightning spirit clutches at the new red spot in a dramatic show of agonizing pain. "Okay, okay—fine! Daemon, you remember that one time, before you betrayed us, when we were all stuck in the hospital ward after Giotto did something stupid?"

"You just described multiple instances. Is there a point to this?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is! Okay, so we were hanging around the hospital ward, and the nurse wouldn't let us get up, so Giotto started a game of questions—"

"Ah. That time."

"And you remember how, eventually, one of us started a new round with a really deep question like…I dunno, 'what is your greatest fear'? Something along those lines? And…well, I said my greatest fear was dying slowly, right?" Lampo folds his hands over his chest and gazes at the stars. "I remember I was like, hey, there can't be anything worse than bleeding to death or something."

A few clouds brush over the edges of the moon.

"So…that happened," the Lightning Guardian says.

The deadpan expression on his face almost fools Tsuna, but there's just no way he can buy it. There's just no way.

Apparently, Daemon thinks the same. Something about the spirit's figure is suddenly off—it's taller and stiffer, like he's gotten restless. His expression is hidden. "Your brave fronts are pathetic as always. I'm not blind. I can _see_ your hands shaking.

Quickly, much too quickly, Lampo slips them into his pockets. "I," he starts to say, and closes his good eye. Tsuna knows it's because he's heard the tremor in his voice. "I don't want to remember. Or talk, really, about my death. So let's stop, let's just stop talking about it. How about that."

Daemon's fingers curl. "Lampo, you cannot—"

"Stop it," comes the reply, hissed through clenched teeth.

He stops.

Tsuna wraps his hands around a chunk of debris, and dares to wonder if there was always something behind Lampo's naps—if the spirit closes his eye and sees things entirely beyond the realm of dreams and nightmares.

This whole situation is tortuous and he doesn't even know where to start.

Gokudera stares at his feet. Tsuna presses against his friend's arm, trying to find comfort in the other teen's body warmth, and closes his eyes.

* * *

**Endnotes:** this chapter rolled right off the drama and straight into the sea of angst hahaha oh no. i'll have to fish it out again next chapter. anyway, the long discussion was really unavoidable, i think. i could've done it in flashbacks or something, but that idea didn't really appeal to me, which is why you get the dialogue. so.

i don't even remember the inheritance trials in the anime or the simon arc in the manga (shoot me) so i honestly don't know much about how the first generation. what do you think about their characters? too OOC?

(also, for those of you who already know what's going on, first of all it's not supposed to be that obvious _how dare you_)

and wow, so many new followers. thank you very much for your support!


End file.
